Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (68 page)

He
looked up at them and locked eyes with each for a moment. “I don't want any of
them coming over here. If they do we're just dumping them onto Antigua. Let
them be the Antiguan's problem not ours,” he growled.

“Yes
sir,” Al said with a nod. They had enough on their plate as it was. He fully
agreed with his captain. The savages didn't belong here.

O'Mallory
frowned. “I'm not being a total hard ass chief,” the captain said with a look
her way. He could see she wasn't comfortable with that order. “I don't want any
problems. The people on that station... who knows what they've got. Diseases
and viruses I mean. They are uneducated and unsocialized. Savages in other
words. More mouths to feed we don't need or want. I also don't want any revenge
issues either.”

“Yes
sir,” O'Mallory said reluctantly.

“You
disagree,” he asked.

She
shook her head firmly. “No sir, just coming to accept it sir. You're the
captain.”

“Good.
Go on. Let me know when the first shuttles are launching of course,” he said.

“Yes
sir,” the chief said with a nod.

“And
chief,” he said looking up again. She paused. “No one without a suit and no one
of critical importance to the function and well being of this ship and its
crew. That rules you and most of the senior staff out.”

“Most
sir?” Warner asked amused.

“Blur
can go,” the captain said, pursing his lips. Al and Warner snorted. O'Mallory
surprised herself and the others by giggling girlishly. “If they'll take him,”
the captain said, smiling a little at the relief in tension.

“I
think they'll send him back without a suit sir,” Al said with a grin. “I know I
would.”

“Go
on, git. Keep me posted,” the captain said, picking up a tablet in front of
him.

“Aye
aye sir,” O'Mallory said with a smile as they exited.

As
the door closed behind her she turned to the others with a grin. “Well! That
was easier than I thought,” she said.

“I
think he's as eager to see what's going on over there as you are chief. And if
the admiral has more hands...”

“He'll
get more done faster. All right. Whatever works,” she said. The confrontation
with the captain had really gone easier than she thought or planned on. Warner
definitely didn't look happy but went apparently he's ready to go along with
it.

“You're
parents don't have suits do they?” Al asked turning to the XO. Warner nodded.

“Skin
suits. Military issue. Mum's is a bit banged up but still useable, or so she
said. I'm not sure if they still fit though,” he replied quietly, eyes lost.

“I
doubt they will go. Away missions are for the young and reckless,” Al said and
then winced at the dagger look Esmay shot him. “What?”

“Franko
and Art weren't reckless,” she snarled.

He
held up a hand. “Sorry, not what I meant.”

“No,
it's what you
implied
.” She was ready for a fight; she'd grown up with
Art and Franko. Franko might have been an ass but he deserved better.

“Let's
not fight,” Warner said getting in between the two before the argument
escalated. “The captain said volunteers with suits. Pass the order chief. Mixed
crews...” he turned to the chief.

O'Mallory
nodded. “I've got George and Gwen working up lists now.”

“Minimum
kit...”

“Great,”
she sighed and shook her head. She'd anticipated the order but didn't have to
like it.

“We
don't want to lose anything...”

“Which
we can't replicate?” she asked looking at him again. He frowned and then
shrugged.

“Point,”
he said. “Al,” he said turning to the security man. “We'll need...”

“Strong
security presence. Gotcha,” Al said nodding. “I'll check in with Q’Bert and
then get back to you on it.”

“The
admiral will meet you at the dock,” Sprite said from the overhead. They looked
up.

“Sorry,
didn't mean to intrude. I was making my hourly report to the bridge when you
came out of the captain's quarters. I deduce from your comments and orders
we're about to have company?” she asked sounding pleased.

“Lay
out a welcome mat will you? But not too hot a reception this time,” the chief
asked.

“Definitely.
The admiral's in admin right now doing what he can with what he brought along.
I'll inform him. Sprite out.”

“We'll
need to give him or her an ETA...” Warner said turning to the chief.

She
nodded. “Just as soon as my people are ready. I know.”

“Chief
we've got the first team prepping now,” the communication's tech said looking
up. They stared at the Veraxin. “What?” she asked, shrugging her upper
shoulders and showing first level amusement over confusion. “I passed on the
good news as soon as you came out.”

O'Mallory
smirked at Warner who rolled his eyes. By now it was probably grist for the
rumor mill, in other words all over the ship. “Glad someone's on the ball.
Think it hit the ship's grapevine yet?”

“Are
you kidding? Gossip's already thick as cookie's pea chowder. Betting is running
four to one that this team gets chewed up as well,” the tech replied.

“Well!”
Al said with a scowl. “I'll just have to see what I can do to upset those odds
right?” he said with a growl. “Put me down for ten on nothing happening and one
on something going wrong,” he said as a stage whisper to the tech. The tech
nodded and then looked up and at him in confusion.

Al
smirked and shook his head, walking off whistling. Warner shook his head at the
tom foolery. “All volunteers have suits until they can make an area for those
without them.”

“Which
will take time,” O'Mallory said. “But not a whole lot I bet. Not with Irons in
their corner,” she said with a smile. The smile congealed slightly. Irons had
been in the first away team's corner as well and look how many had come back
after that mess she thought.

“No
doubt,” Warner said as Al left the bridge. He looked at the closing hatch and
frowned. “Where's he going?”

“Either
to get a suit or to find some of his people to go,” O'Mallory said looking at
the hatch herself. “I'm not sure which.” She doubted Al would go back. He said
he wouldn't but then again you never knew.

“I
wonder how many will volunteer and how many he'll order to go?”

“Not
sure,” O'Mallory said. She was of mixed feelings on going. “I'll be in the boat
bay if you need me,” she said leaving the bridge.

Outside
the boat bay she paused, whistling. Dozens of heads turn to look at her. “You
going too chief?” Gwen asked, checking names off the list.

“No,
ah, can't. Captain's orders. You shouldn't either,” she said with a frown.

“Oh
not this trip. I know, M'runi passed on the order. No one without a suit can go
until they've got it set up on the other end. I've got Jake making suits now
though.”

“Really,”
she said taken aback by that. “What'd that cost?”

“More
than Blur is happy to let go of,” Gwen muttered with a scowl. “Some of Riff's
tipple, which was also a pain in the ass to get a hold of. Had to get
him
a
custom
suit for him to go along with it on his end.”

“Really?”
O'Mallory asked surprised and amused. Riff was a thinker and a tinkerer, not
really someone who liked risking his bull neck. The Tauren shrugged her massive
shoulders. “He's that serious about going?” she asked.

“Does
this answer your question chief?” Gwen said, pointing over her shoulder.
O'Mallory turned to see Riff coming around the corner with a suit on. Granted
it was a universal suit, but it was one that fit him. He had an oversized
bubble helmet tucked under one arm, and an engineering kit and survival bag
under the other. He pretty much filled the companionway, forcing everyone to
flatten against the sides of the bulkheads or get run over.

“Riff?”
she asked, quirking an eyebrow upward.

“Yes
chief?” he asked, setting the equipment down at his boots and then setting the
helmet on top. “All ready to go,” he said looking at Gwen.

“Shit,”
Gwen muttered looking him up and down. “Damn you Riff...”

“Pissed
cause I'm going first?” he asked with a flick of his bovine style ears.

“A
little,” she growled.

“You'll
get over it,” he said with a snort. She hooked a thumb and finger into his
nostrils and pinched and pulled downward until they were face to face. His eyes
rolled white at the pain she was inducing.

“Now
here this. Anything, I mean anything,” she gave a pointed tug on the nostrils
making him yelp. “Anything happen to that hide of yours and what's trying to
kill and eat you will be the
least
of your problems. You read me bull
boy?”

“Yes
ma'am,” he said, breathing through his mouth. His voice sounded high pitched.

“The
only one that takes a bite out of your ass is me. Get that through your thick
head.” She gave him a long look and then let go. Her hand wiped itself on a
rag. “Now get. Keep in touch. Or
else
,” she growled.

“Yes
Ma'am,” he said, picking his kit up and tucking it under his arms again. “If
you'll excuse me chief,” he said. He got through the hatch and snorted then
winced. “Damn that hurt,” he muttered loud enough for them to hear. He rubbed
at his nose.

“Serves
you right,” Gwen growled.

Barry
and another pilot ferried the first two groups over a half hour later.

“I
take it this is another marathon session?” Sprite asked, clearly amused. The
admiral was nothing if not thorough and stubborn.

“Probably,”
Irons replied, continuing to work on the panel in front of him. He was waiting
for the shuttles to dock. Since he was stuck waiting, why not work on the area
around the docks?

“I've
been meaning to tell you, we've got a slow boil problem,” Sprite admitted. That
was her way of saying a small problem that could become a bigger one overtime.

“Oh?”
he asked, adjusting the lights. Right now the station was on energy saving
alert of course. He pulled anything shorted or severely damaged and tossed them
to the side. A bot was trundling back and forth in between his shuttle and the
piles of scrap. He had a pair of hover pallets filling up with newly replicated
parts. His replicator was also making bots, one bot every two hours.

“Yes.
It appears the cybers and some of the AI are getting ready to file suit,”
Sprite said, totally serious.

He
paused what he was doing and looked up. “You don't say,” he said slowly.
“Suit?”

“Yes,
apparently they do not like us here, do not like the interference, the damage,
and intend to file a lawsuit over everything from the damages to the resources
you use to repair the station. All illegal, unlawful and downright mean,” she
said sounding mock serious. If he didn't know her any better he'd swear she was
actually enjoying that twist.

“Talk
about biting the hand that feeds you,” Irons replied before returning his
attention to the lights.

“Essentially
what I said actually,” Sprite said. She checked the exterior camera. Wonder of
wonders it was functional. “Shuttle one on final. ETA two minutes,” she
reported.

“Just
enough time to finish with this then,” Irons said, moving from the light to a
flickering one further down the companionway. He'd already checked the locks
and grapples, they were functional. He flipped the step stool open and then
climbed up it again. He'd cleaned up the grav plates right off. Fortunately
they were in relatively good order for their age. The corridor was set to only
one third G like the rest of the station now.

“If
you feel a bump...”

“That
will be Barry knocking you mean?” Irons asked. “Let's hope not,” he said,
pulling the cover panel off. One light was burned out, the other on its last
leg. Florescent tubes. Apparently they hadn't gone out of style even though
LED's had mostly replaced them over a thousand years ago. He shook his head and
pulled both tubes. The light around him vanished.

“Did
you tell them we're covered?” he asked, meaning the cybers and not the incoming
people.

“I
told them a lot of things in that regard. Including looking a gift horse in the
mouth and biting the hand that feeds you,” Sprite replied acidly.

“No
I mean it's covered. All factories were nationalized during the latter half of
the Xeno war. Remember?” he asked as he worked.

“Um...”
It took a microsecond to find the relevant documents. She already knew the
corporation had been nationalized but... When she did scan through and find
what he had been talking about she felt like kicking herself. No, not really,
but the metaphor fit somehow. How could she of missed it?