Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (61 page)

“We
all know the history,” Fu said, tucking his hand into his sleeves. “We all knew
the damage the Xeno attack had inflicted. We were down to one reactor. We had
no choice but to hide.”

“But
we could have said something when they left!” Sid said waving a hand.

“As
I understand it you did,” Fu said giving the other man a cold look. “Despite
the vote of the council,” he said, having to put that little dig in. Sid had
been censured by the others for his actions. It had been intensely frustrating.

“Didn't
do us any good now did it?” Sid asked sarcastically. “And as I recall my
message didn't quite get out there. It was garbled by
your
friend. The
same
so called friend who then cut the communications out of the loop and then went
nuts on us all, walling himself off in the net after the others went insane.”

True,”
Averies said with a sigh. “But we're not here to rehash old memories. We're
here to discuss the future. Our future.”

“We
need more memory. Too many of us are slipping into catatonia or the virtual
dreams,” Emily murmured. She like all of them knew the temptation. To slip into
the dream, that the virtual world was much more fascinating and easier to deal
with and live in than the hell of the station. They had lost quite a few
friends over the years to it. Three centuries ago Fu had enacted a protocol
with the council's vote to cut off life support to those who entered dream for
more than a year and refused to come out of it. They had shortened that period
to a month of steady dream when computer memory and resources became a precious
commodity.

It
was heartbreaking, watching one of the law AI cut off the life support to a
friend. Of course they shut them down before hand, lulled them into sleep
before cutting off their lower brain functions and then rerouting precious
power and resources from their pods to something else.

What
was even more heart rendering was losing the AI friends she'd known for
literally centuries. Slowly one by one they were slipping, becoming slower and
slower as they taxed themselves to death with over thinking or cutting off
higher functions to keep others alive. A few had committed virtual suicide to
not be a continuous burden to the others. Others had rotted in virtual space,
bloated with data they didn't need but couldn't seem to rid themselves of. A
purge would cost them some of their sanity. Memory loss was like an itch they
couldn't scratch, driving them mad. The one time a smart AI had tried to do it
had driven it insane. She shuddered at that memory. He was still in the net,
sleeping like a dragon, coiled, but ready to strike at the cybers and remaining
AI with ferocious intensity when he was disturbed.

Which
would be soon she realized. The admiral and his AI would stumble into them soon
enough. When that happened the cold war they had maintained over the centuries
would explode into real and virtual violence. She would need... no
they
would need to discuss this with the admiral
before
he dug into anything
that could trip any further alarm.

“We're
going to have to tell him about the others,” Emily said quietly. “I mean, he's
going to find them soon. Awaken... the dragon.”

All
eyes turned on her. She looked at the AI in their midst. Slowly they nodded.
“It is agreed. The admiral's AI must be informed,” Yan Fu said quietly.

“I
imagine Kiev has been trying to contact us right?” Irons asked as he made his
way into the companionway. Only one lock was left before he entered central
administration. He'd taken it slow, scanning thoroughly to make sure there were
no more surprises, no more traps. The station cybers and AI had retreated or
lapsed into invisibility again.

“I'd
imagine so admiral,” Sprite said dryly. “I have remote access. No one is
blocking me. I've found a short ranged transceiver and I've piggybacked a
message to the shuttle.”

“And
have they?” Irons asked after a moment. He was fairly certain he knew the
answer.

“You
could say that,” Sprite said dryly, clearly amused. “Want to hear it?”

The
admiral shook his head. He was looking around, focusing on the admin area. It
was cleaner, white and green walls, purple trim... corporate logo here and
there... “No, not the entire thing. Cliff note version works,” he said.

“Usual
ranting. Pleading. They should have known you couldn't of gotten a signal
through the hull,” Sprite answered.

“Figures,”
Irons said with a sniff. “Patch me through.”

“Live
mike admiral,” Sprite said.

“This
is Admiral Irons in the station. I've reached the outer door to central
administration.”

“It's
about time Irons. Sitrep?” the captain demanded.

“I've
made contact with the surviving administrators. They have decided to work with
me. At least I think so. We'll find out more when I go inside,” he said. He
paused, not just to carry on the conversation, he could have course walk and
talk at the same time. No it was so his sensors could scan administration
thoroughly and then build up a map. He wanted to go in eyes open and aware of
any potential dangers.

“You're
not serious. There
are
people alive over there?” The captain asked
sounding stunned.

“Several
hundred. Oh you mean in authority? Yes. Cybers and a few AI. Some eighteen
cybers and a few AI of various classes are sane. Or so they say, I can't really
tell for certain. We've been contacted by them.” Irons was still debating how
sane these people were. They obviously had some level of sanity, but who would
willingly hook themselves up to a machine for the rest of eternity? And then
let the machine fall apart?

“So
what now?” The captain asked, sounding exasperated and impatient.

Irons
grimaced and then told the testy captain he had made friends with the people on
the station. There is recrimination in the captain's voice when he finished the
report but the admiral ignored it. He'll deal with it later. He explained the
situation as he stepped up to the hatch at the end of the companionway to the
central administration core. There was a big image of the corporate logo on one
side of the hatch and Antigua Prime written in bold above and below it. A sign
nearby said authorized personnel only. He snorted at that. Authorized or not he
was damn well going in.

“So
that's that? All friends again?” The captain demanded. Irons pursed his lips,
noting the light white over green coloring on the walls. This area was clean
and relatively neat. There was little if any dust and debris. The hatch was in
good repair. Obviously either a bot was still functional or no one had been
around here for a very long time.

“They
weren't the ones who killed the away team Captain. Quite the contrary. Most are
old folks like me and the Warners. They and some AI friends. They are ready to
help.” He tapped the hatch entry button. It went from red to green and then the
door cycled open slowly. “I'm in admin. I'll give you a further report in an
hour captain,” he said closing the link. He stepped within.

He
looked around the administration complex. The lights were dim but he could see
just fine with his enhanced vision. It was huge; there were two dozen doors on
its three tiers. The tiers were offset, each further out than the one below. It
formed a sort of amphitheater. He wasn't sure about the design, but it was set
so he wasn't going to bother worrying about it. The center was sort of a stage,
seats and command consoles were there.

Remarkably
it was clean. Oh there was wiring and panels that were open, boards were
hanging here and there, some soot marks and fire damage from what looked like
an electrical fire, but overall it was in remarkably better shape than the rest
of the station. He spotted a swarm of tiny cleaner bots. That was why, he
thought with a nod. Each was a robotic insect that worked with its swarm
companions to clean. They buzzed about, cleaning his foot prints. He looked at
his boots and grimaced. Somewhere he'd tread in blood and organic bits.

“Sorry,”
he muttered, lifting one boot to be cleaned, and then setting it down to lift
the other.

He
made his way to the stage and then settled in and got to work checking the
station's systems out. Immediately he didn't like what he found but he and
Proteus set to work, doing what they could to repair and route around some of
the damage. After an hour he paused. Proteus continued using his right arm but
he turned his thoughts to the bigger picture. He hadn't heard anything, hadn't
gotten any help from anyone.

“How
are the cybers doing?” he finally asked. He hadn't seen them in the net at all.

“Apparently
still arguing,” Sprite answered dryly.

“Arguing?
Over what?” he demanded.

“Over
whether to help us or not,” she said in disgust.

“Oh?”
He paused what he was doing to look up and refocus on her avatar. Now that he
had a grasp of the station's systems he was working around the admin, patching
in or tearing out systems. He had a growing list of parts to replace. With a
station this size he was going to have a very long and lengthy list. “It would
be nice to get some help,” he said.

“Sorry,
I'm really not cut out for this sort of thing,” Sprite said with a helpless
shrug.

The
admiral frowned. Sprite was doing just fine repairing software and pointing out
memory errors. “I'm not just talking about you. The cybers yes. Also the ship.”

“The
cybers... admiral, I've found their bio's. Not many of them have any skills for
this sort of thing,” Sprite reported.

“Oh?”
Again he paused what he was doing to look at her again. “How the hell did they
last this long then?” he demanded, suddenly confused.

Sprite
shook her virtual head. “Luck and a dose of occasional sanity and pity from the
insane.”

“You're
kidding me,” he said.

She
shook her virtual head once more. “No, unfortunately I'm not admiral. A
majority of the eighteen cyber survivors are human resources or lawyers.”

“You...”
He sat on the edge of a console, feeling his right arm move on its own as
Proteus used it to repair the long range communication's console.

She
nodded, cold sober. “Yes I'm serious. An accountant... Do you want a brief?”

“If
you can make it brief,” he said.

She
smiled slightly. “Funny. Let’s see, let's start with those we know. The Berkhearts,”
she flashed their holo bust images. The images turned a slow three sixty. “They
are human resource managers and minor members of the station's command
council.”

“Okay.”

“The
Fu's. Only one is from old Earth by the way,” she said, replacing the Berkheart's
with images of the Fu's. “Yan Fu and Hishina Fu. Corporate lawyers and the
corporate voice on the board. Minor share holders as well. They are serving as
the CEO and president of the board.”

“Lovely,”
Irons sighed.

“Pacifists.
Extreme pacifists. Vegans before they became augmented at this level,” Sprite
continued. “Most of the board is of the same mindset.”

“It
gets better,” he said rubbing his brow. “Others?”

“Templeton
Myers, a scientist. He had a hand in the design of the station, though a minor
role. Specialized in metallurgy. He like the Fu's have been in the station
since it's design and construction. Doctor Myers has a rare medical condition
that destroyed most of his organic body before it was stopped.”

The
admiral winced. “Ouch.”

“It
was a childhood defect. I can give you...”

Irons
held up a restraining hand. “Pass. Next.”

“Averies,
just that, Averies. He changed his name when he became an adult. A bit of a
maverick dilettante. Amateur artist, self taught programmer, minor share
holder, paralegal with a minor in research. He's one of the few people trying
to handle the software side of things.
Trying
being the operative word.”

“Okay,”
Irons said, making a move on motion.

“Moving
on, the Stewards, Ron and Rachael. Rachael is a neobear by the way; Ron is a
werebear human mod. They signed on as life support managers.”

“You'd
think a couple like that would have been more interested in a ground side
posting,” Irons mused.

“Stereotype
Admiral,” Sprite replied with a sniff. Irons made a passing motion with his
free hand and then shrugged. “I think the constant need to keep the station
alive has kept them busy and focused. I'm surprised they are sane though,”
Sprite said.

“It
takes all kinds. If you break it down and take it one step at a time... some
people are like that.”

“I'm
surprised you are sane,” Sprite said. “Your plan... I wasn't sure of it at
first.”

“At
first,” Irons replied with a smile. “But now?”

“Now
I think you are on to something. With a station like this in our corner...”

“Exactly.
But we need to get everyone on board with the plan. Which is a problem.” He
felt Proteus finish what it was doing and then signal him to move on.