Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (60 page)

“I've
met people like that. Commander Logan is doing his best in Pyrax right now. I
left him in charge of the navy there. He has thousands of people, hundreds of
engineers and a growing college to train people.”

“It
sounds like you don't need us then,” a voice in the back said quietly.

Irons
focused on the voice for a moment. There was uncertainty in the voice of
course. A hint of depression and of tired exhaustion. But there was a thread of
hope there too. He had to build on it. “We always need wisdom. Our place as
elders isn't to sit back and watch, it's to educate the next generation and
lead our society until it is our time to step aside and let them take up the
reins. Even then it is our job to keep an eye on them and help guide them as
they learn for themselves how life works.”

There
were unseen nodded in the audience. Irons nodded back. “I've rebuilt star
systems. I've gone into an empty system and left an entire shipyard and growing
orbital industry. I've helped terraform planets and I've had a hand in the
Stargate program and building a Dyson sphere. What has been done can be done
again. With your help,” he said looking at each of them in turn. “I know you
are old and tired. I know you feel like giving up. But for some reason you
still cling to life. Despite everything that has happened on this station here
you are.”

“Yes,
we are here. We few. Like rocks worn with age. Death is but a feather, Duty is
as heavy as a mountain,” the mandarin said.

The
admiral shot him an amused look before returning his attention to the group.
“Yes. You few. This station can support a hundred thousand or more correct?”
Irons asked. They made affirmative sounds.

“Kiev
has over four or five thousand excess people on it. Before we arrived in the
system they had talked about building another ship or station. Here you are,”
he indicated the station and looked around briefly.

“What
can they do?”
“Anything they put their minds to if they are willing and make the effort,”
Irons replied. “I've spent months training them. They had a rudimentary
educational system in place. I just built off of that.”

“But
they don't have the keys! No one does!” a voice said, sounding despairing.

“There
are ways around them,” another said. “We've discussed it before.” One set of
eyes turned on another. “We just need power.”

“And
then there is me,” Irons said. They turned back to him. “I am a Federation
officer, a fleet admiral. An
engineering
fleet admiral.
I
have
the keys.” He tapped at his helmet. “I am the Rosetta stone. I can make
virtually
anything
with a replicator.”

The
group stared at him and then began to murmur amongst themselves. Irons watched,
listening, hands on his hips. From the sound of the chatter they were both
stunned and excited, but there was an undercurrent of disbelief and skepticism
as well. Also something he wasn't quite happy with, growing sense of
superiority over him. Finally they muted themselves to talk privately. They
faded out until only the first four remained.

“We
will do this,” the Berkheart's said nodding after a few minutes. There was a
new sparkle in their eyes, the hint of hope and challenge of a new day. Irons
nodded. He looked at the Chinese couple.

“We
do not oppose this. We are pacifists though admiral. We do not like building
weapons of war,” Yan Fu said.

“Then
I won’t ask you to do so unless it is to defend this station and system. If
possible you can make the tools that will in turn make ships and weapons
correct? Do you have any philosophical opposition to that?” Irons asked.

They
looked at each other. Finally the mandarin shrugged. “No,” he said with a bow.
“What others do with the tools is not a problem.”

“Remember,”
Irons rumbled. “A weapon is a tool. In the right hands it can do great good or
evil. It is not itself inherently evil.”

“You
speak of nanites,” the mandarin said.

“I
speak of any weapon system since man first picked up a rock and a stick. It is
how you use it that matters, not... never mind. We can debate philosophy later.
Right now we have work to do. I need to get into administration and start working
out a plan.”

“We
have a limited plan. And a few functional robots,” Sid said as the hatches
opened in front of him. Lights flickered and came on here and there in the
corridor before him.

“Then
let’s get started.”

“What
the hell has been going on over there?” the captain demanded, pacing the deck
like a caged animal. He looked at the communications tech who hunched her
shoulders. The angry glare turned on Warner who shrugged.

“No
idea skipper. I guess we'll find out when he's ready to talk. Or when He wasn't
buried deep in the hull.”

“You
mean he may not be able to punch a signal through the hull?” Captain Chambers
demanded.

“It's
a possibility,” Warner mused, rubbing his chin. He'd started to grow a goatee.
He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It was damn itchy. “He'd have just his
suit com and whatever his implants provide. He'll need a hell of a lot of power
to punch a signal through all that metal when he gets closer to the core of the
station.”

“Why
the core?” Hir'ruk asked.

“I
think he's heading to admin. That's what I'd do if I were in his boots anyway.
From there he'll take control.”

“Can
he?” The Veraxin asked, signaling uncertainty. “Is it possible?”

Warner's
lips twitched in a sour smile. “He's a Federation Fleet admiral. I think we'll
find just about anything is possible for him. He's got the replicator keys
after all. There is no telling what other keys he's got buried in his
implants.” Warner looked at the captain who sat in his chair with a huff.

“On
the good side we've got some repairs done while we're waiting. All the emitter
pods that were ready have been installed and tested. We're configuring them
now. It's slow though. The work crews have pulled the other emitter pods and
they are piling them up in the boat bay. I understand the chief has a work crew
scavenging them now.”

“Why
bother?” Hir'ruk asked.

“Well,
if she can get one or two more pairs up then she can mount them on the hull. I
understand both boats are out on the hull patching the leaks and rebuilding
some of our skin now,” Warner reported.

“Really?”
the captain asked. He hadn't really paid close attention to the repairs; his
entire attention had been focused on the drama on the station.

Warner
smiled again. “It's slow, but we're getting there. I think that industrial
replicator the admiral traded to us is getting a work out.”

The
captain nodded. “Good.”

“It's
hard because they have to pull the piece and bring it in to rework. That's
slowing progress to a crawl sometimes.”

“Tough.
We can't strip the ship bare of stores. We've got to have something to purchase
fuel with,” the captain growled.

“True,”
Warner said with a sigh. “I just wish we had more. The more I think about it
the more I like the idea of getting an asteroid. Or two. Or even a snow ball.”

“Really?”
The captain asked, turning to him with an uplifted eyebrow. “A snowball?”

“Sure,”
Warner said sitting back and picking up his coffee from his cup holder. “If we
find a good one we can process it and we won't need to buy fuel and lift it out
of the gravity well. I talked with my parents too. They suggested a fuel
station at one of the gas giants too.”

“That's
a little out of our league,” Hir'ruk said.

The
XO shook his head. “You'd be surprised. Most of the engineering isn't all that
difficult. Sure the power supply is an issue, but we can find a way around that
if we have to. Use a hydrogen fuel cell or something,” Warner replied.
“Unmanned we could have it making fuel while we're gone. Suck it dry when we're
back. Then service it and set it up for the next run.”

“And
it would be helium 3 and deuterium,” Esmay said, turning to view the other
officers. “Right?”

“Definitely,”
Warner said with a smile. “Which means more power for our reactor and far less
energy waste. Also less wear and tear on the systems.”

“I'll
think about it,” the captain rumbled, clearly off balance by the new concept.
“Do you have a proposal?”

“No,
but I can write one up while we're waiting,” Warner said with a smile.

The
captain nodded. “Do that. I might as well read it while we're just sitting
here,” the captain sighed. “I hate waiting,” he said darkly.

The
Berkhearts turned to the Fu's as they floated through the virtual chamber to
their spartan inner room. The Fu's preferred a Japanese minimalist architecture
and interior design. Sometimes Sid wondered about them, it took all kinds to
survive. He knew they were old, they had been in the system before he and his
wife had joined. He'd thought that they would have committed seppuku or
something, or that their bodies would have failed. Apparently not. Sometimes he
wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Yan
Fu was a character, now dressed in his more familiar white and black robes with
his snow white hair and beard. He looked like an Asian master or an oriental
wizard. Sometimes the others muttered about the robes.

His
wife tucked her hand in his as the others joined them. Resources in the
mainframe were scarce. They constantly bickered over the precious memory and
processing cycles now. Maybe Irons would be able to do something about that soon.

“Do
we trust him?” Averies said, coming to the point.

Yan
Fu sat down in an elegant wave and picked up a tea cup. He took a sip and then
set the cup down. “Do we have a choice?” he asked after a moment.

“There
are always choices. You've said that over and over,” Doctor Myers said, shaking
his virtual head. “We can cooperate with him or not. The paths are unclear on
what would happen for each.” Myers was one of their few remaining scientists.
In fact he was the only scientist; Doctor Trask was an MD and medical
administrator not a metallurgist.

“Hopefully
something good. We are slipping down the last slope to oblivion,” Sid said. He
noted the others nodded proved that the others were very much aware of the
problem. Good he thought.

“He
holds the high ground. He can force compliance,” the mandarin said after a long
moment. “We have no choice but to bend to his will. Like the reed in the wind.”

“More
like adapt to new circumstances,” Sid retorted, eyes narrowing. “And who said
he's forcing us? We can just sit it out, watch and do nothing. Or we can get
off our dead
asses
and
help
for a change. Pick ourselves up and
move on. We made mistakes. We made a damn big one by hiding. We all know that.
Now it's our turn to atone for our actions.”

“There
is no shame in hiding,” the mandarin murmured.

Sid
scowled. “No? Even when the Xeno's are long gone?”

“Do
we even know they are gone?” Myers asked.

“No
idea,” Sid said with a shrug. “But I'm for one tired of sitting and waiting for
something else to fail. We have a duty. To this station and to the future. It's
time we lived up to that.”

“Death
is as light as a feather. Duty is as heavy as a mountain,” Mrs. Fu murmured,
looking at her husband.

“Thank
you,” he said bowing slightly. Most of the others knew that she unlike him was
of Japanese descent. She'd actually come from the home islands on long lost
Earth. Although he put on airs Yan Fu was a descendant of California Chinese
who had intermingled blood lines with other Asian groups over the centuries
before leaving Earth to colonize the stars.

“What
can we do to help?” Myers finally asked.

“We
can't round up or even contact the ferals,” Averies said with a sniff. “They
run away from us.” Which was true. Of course it didn't help that they had no
control of any of the robots on the station right now. Draco had complete
control of the robots. It had been Draco who had been sending the bots after
the admiral.

“And
whose fault is that? Our psycho colleagues, that's who,” Emily growled. “We
should have done something about them a long time ago. They've spent ages
tormenting the poor souls left here with us. Now that's set in over the
generations and we can't even talk to them! Had we done something to set the
record straight maybe we wouldn't be in this situation now!”

She
was referring to the wretched cybers who had gone insane early when the station
first went dark. They capered about the station's net, normally pulling pranks
but preferring to do minimum harm to keep on Draco's good side. For some reason
Draco protected and sheltered them.

The
other sane cybers were glad when the insane ones turned their attentions on the
unfortunate souls trapped in the bowls of the station. That meant they weren't
capering and causing havoc in the mainframe. There were fewer and fewer people
in the station every year though. The insane cybers haunted them like
poltergeists, chasing them into deathtraps.