Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (77 page)

There
were some gasps around the room and then cheers and clapping. The captain
looked surprised.

“Our
people can really pull of miracles can't they sir?” Warner said grinning.

“Yes.
Yes indeed they can. If they get a little help,” the captain said, turning to
the view screen. Slowly the station's lights were brightening. Windows were
lighting up. Not all of them, but it turned a foreboding dead station into
something that seemed like it was ready to return to the world of the living.

As
the reactor came online Proteus stabilized it. The AI had copied it's files on
managing and maintaining reactors to the dumb AI Clio. Clio was named for one
of the nine muses in Greek mythology. Hers was the muse of history. She wasn't
sure about handling the new task, but it seemed simple enough. Complex enough
to require concentration and not bore her, but simple enough for an AI of her
level.

“Are
you sure I can handle it?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“You
have the files and systems now. The organics will be with you as well. Just
help them maintain bottle integrity and you will be fine,” Proteus instructed.

“I'm
not sure,” she said. “Perhaps one of my sisters...”

“Unfortunately
only you and Euterpe and Terpsichore are currently functional. And they are...
flighty. They do not have the level of focus and concentration as you do,”
Proteus replied wishing Sprite was here to deal with this part.

“You
mean they're air heads,” Clio said with a virtual nod. “I know. I've lived with
them for nearly eight hundred years. They took on the personalities of party
girls to fit their roles as entertainment coordinators.”

“Yes
well, they're it for now. So...”

“So
I'm stuck,” Clio said. She didn't sound pleased.

“Just
think of it as making history instead of documenting it. Write your thoughts
down when you get the chance. Interview some of the organics for their
thoughts. The Renaissance of the station,” Irons interjected.

“I'll
do that,” Clio said, brightening. “I rather like the idea,” she said, firming
up and reaching out with her code hands to take control. Proteus did the hand
off and watched as she fumbled it before correcting. She over corrected a few
times before finally getting the hang of it.

“Slippery
little devil!” Clio reported.

Proteus's
blob bobbed, his version of a nod. “It's tough sometimes. Right now we're
keeping it at fifty percent power. Try not to let the stream go out of balance
or drop below...”

Clio
nodded, intently focusing on the bottle. “Fifteen percent. Got it. I have the
files you know.”

“I
know.”

“You
were testing me,” Clio said looking up.

“Just
making sure,” Irons said with a nod. He watched her. As her experience with the
bottle software grew she sort of grew into the project, gaining in confidence.
The tricky thing was not to over think it, not to over control and smother the
bottle or run it out of control. Through Proteus he could see her writing
programs to handle some of the simpler tasks. Good. Eventually managing the
bottle would be second nature to her.

“Let
Proteus or I know if you need a break. We'll see if we can get someone to
help,” Irons said, ready to unjack.

“Sure
thing,” Clio said. “Admiral I'd love an interview if you've got the time,” she
said, focusing on the bottle.

The
admiral blinked at her tiredly. “Um, not right now, when things get stable.”

“No
problem. This is taking up a lot more concentration than I thought. I'll
definitely have to re-assess my comments on the history and importance of
engineers at this rate.”

“You
do that.”

“Any
word on my other sisters?”

“Um...
Not following,” Irons said cautiously.

“There
were nine of us on the station. Well, nine muses. There were eighteen other
AI.”

“I
know the smart AI is okay,” Irons said. For the life of him he couldn't
pronounce her name right now. Men something or other. It meant Memory in Greek.

“What
about your AI? Sprite?” Clio asked.

“She's...
occupied,” Irons said uncomfortably. Sprite had been noticeably absent lately.
He'd have to talk with her soon.

“Hopefully
she is all right. I heard about the damage,” Clio said, tut tuting. “Awful.
Wakeful business. But it had to be done, right?”

The
admiral frowned. “Unfortunately yes. I would love to have gotten Draco to
settle down. To get into his core and rebuild whatever had gone wrong.
Unfortunately he wouldn't allow it and he was too dangerous. To himself and
others,” Irons sighed. Proteus didn't say anything.

“Well,
it's done now. History as they say,” Clio said virtuously and then brightened.
“That's my area of expertise,” she said, preening.

“And
we'll have you back to it soon enough,” Irons said.

“Oh
I don't mind helping out. It makes for an interesting change in perspective,”
Clio said.

“From
what I understand two of the muses have been confirmed deleted or destroyed,”
Clio said after a moment. Irons looked at her. “My sisters Melpomone and
Polyhymnia. Mel was such a pessimist that's it's really no great lost. Always
weeping and whining. She took her naming a little too seriously there. Let that
be a lesson,” she said.

“Okay,”
Irons said.

“Mnemosyne
did it. Or told me about them I mean. I'm not sure if she deleted them or not.
She didn't say. I didn't ask,” Clio said. “How is she by the way? I haven't
seen her in the net yet.”

“She's
around I think. Part of her anyway. I think she was damaged by the brief cyber
war,” Irons replied, sounding unsure himself.

Clio
nodded, looking sad. She had the image of a muse, Greek woman with curly blond
hair done up in a bun wearing a white toga. She was holding a tablet. “She's
been damaged. She put a lot of her higher functions in inactive storage. She
was helping Averies but she took so much of herself offline she started to be a
hindrance more than a help.”

“Ouch,”
Irons replied.

Clio
nodded. “I know she's a new generation smart AI. It was a risk. Hopefully she
can be fixed.”

“It's
not that simple,” Irons replied.

“Tell
that to your AI Sprite. She has similar damage and I know it's debilitating to
a smart AI,” Clio said absently. Irons frowned digesting that tidbit of
information.

Clio
rambled on though, oblivious. “Thalia and Urania should be recoverable. I think
they were stored in a set of external drives. Their control bank went offline
so we lost access to them.”

“Okay.”

“Erato
and Calliope... I don't know. No one knows. One second they were in the net and
then we lost them when Draco went on a rampage. I'm not sure if they were cut
off like the others or if they were destroyed.”

“Or
if Draco consumed them,” Proteus said quietly.

Clio
looked up. “That too,” she said equally softly. “That would be a shame.”

“It's
a possibility,” Irons said. “We'll look into it when we have more time.
Hopefully we'll find them like the others. Do you have the IP address to where
the other two are? Their cores I mean? Thalia and um...”

“Urania.
Yes. Thalia's in one of the entertainment memory expansion modules on deck
eleven.” Clio sent him a file. “Urania's somewhere in the science modules.
Averies knows her exact location,” she said.

“I'll
talk to him. Hopefully we can get them online so we can get you some help,” he
replied.

“Oh
I don't mind,” Clio said juggling the bottle. “This is fun. And it beats
staring at a virtual landscape or trying to recreate famous speeches. This is a
wonderful distraction.”

“All
right. I'll leave you to it then,” Irons said with a nod. “Keep in touch,” he
said.

“Of
course,” Clio said with a wave.

It
took about two hours to chase down leaks and to route power only to areas that
needed it right now. Some of the cybers were a pain in the ass; they wanted to
power the entire station with the one small reactor. It was frustrating to try
to deal with their sudden burst of enthusiasm. Fortunately someone else took
them in hand so Irons wouldn't have to take the time to explain priorities.

He
chalked it up to excitement and euphoria that was spreading through the crews.
Everyone knew it was the first small step in bringing the station back to life.

“Admiral...”

“I'm
getting some downtime,” the admiral said, suppressing a yawn as he looked at
Gwen. “Unless there is something else?” he asked.

“No
I was going to suggest it. You’ve gotten the two replicators online. We'll
stick to parts on the list.”

“I
unlocked a tray of parts in each. Once they are done focus on parts that aren't
locked down,” the admiral ordered.

The
Tauren grimaced. He shrugged. “Sorry, didn't mean to state the obvious.”

She
waved a dismissive hand. “You're tired admiral. Forgiven. Go. Go get some rest
before you fall over,” she said.

“Food.
That I wouldn't mind right about now,” he said stretching. “Then rest.”

“No
coffee,” she growled shaking a warning finger his way. She knew him.

“Yes
mama,” he quipped and then smiled at her grunt of annoyance. More than one tech
in the room was doubled over chuckling. He shook his head. “I'll be good. Are
you going to tuck me in?” he asked.

“No,
but I promise to put the sledge hammer away if you go now,” she growled.

“Fine
fine,” he said and shook his head as the chuckles got louder. He raised his
hands in surrender as he backed to the hatch. “I'm going, see? I'm going,” he
said indicating the open hatch door by pointing to it over his shoulder.

“Bout
time,” she growled and then leaned over a station console. She tapped at the
controls.

Irons
shook his head and left.

He
really did need to take a break. He checked in and found out that the cybers
had helped the Kiev people locate and set up a mess and temporary quarters.
Most likely the Berkhearts had been responsible for that, after all they were
human resource managers.

He
made a quick call in to the Kiev with the good news. He was glad that the
captain was off duty, the man has little or no patience. After signing off he
then picked up some food and sleep. He drank a lot of water, surprising the
group around him. “Have to replenish what I used,” he explained with a shrug.

“I
don't doubt you're dehydrated,” a Veraxin tech chittered. “Wasn't that hot?”

“Just
a bit,” Irons replied in between swigs of water. He downed another glass of
water and then drew another. A tech murmured to the Veraxin and then got up and
got a tray of water and food for the admiral.

“Thanks,”
he said with a polite nod.

“We
should be the ones thanking you. You've been on your feet for how long?” the
tech asked.

The
admiral checked his chronometer. “Almost a week it seems.”

“A
week?” the tech said in disbelief, eyes wide.

The
Veraxin's mandibles went slack. “A week?”

The
admiral shrugged. “Yeah, well, six days. Didn't beat my record. Darn. Maybe
next time.”

They
stared at him. He pointed to a corner where people were resting. “Beds?”

“Um..
hammocks,” the Veraxin said with a chitter of annoyance. Hammocks worked for
humans and bipeds. Centaurs like the Veraxins had to find other accommodations.
The Taurens just sat on the floor.

Irons
found an empty brown one in a relatively dark corner and nodded to it. “Mine,”
he said pointing to it. The others nod. He bedded down in a hammock, amused
about the entire situation. Sleeping in his suit was a pain, but he didn't want
to expend the effort to take it off... and besides if they had an emergency he
didn't want to waste the time putting it back on. He shifted about, trying to
get comfortable. A fitting dug into his side annoying him to no end until he
tuned it out. His last coherent thought was wondering where someone found a
pudding cup and where he could get one.

With
power to spare now Riff and Gwen sent crews out to repair the nearby EPS
conduits. They sent teams out to hunt down leaks and route around them or patch
them. The cybers were impressed.

They
had located the nearest pair of industrial replicators and routed power to it.
When it was up and running they started sending scrap to it. The admiral had
visited each before going to bed, pronouncing them sound. He'd cued up some of
the locked parts while he was there, parts that his launch's replicator was too
small to do. He'd gotten a couple of trays going before switching to another
project.

When
they had been pulled, Regua, the Veraxin replicator tech who had come over from
Kiev set up trays of simple parts.