Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (82 page)

“Just
our luck it will be us. But that's for another time. Beer time calls,” Shari
said, stepping over the knee knocker and then pulling the hatch shut and
dogging it. She thought about adding a tack or two to keep it shut then decided
against it. She pulled a water bottle out as Howi looked up from moving the
tanks of acetylene onto their pallet. They waved good bye to the guards.

“Now
you're talking,” Howi said, smacking his lips. Shari smirked as she drank her
water. “Well, since you're all hot and bothered...” He eyed her with a mock
leer. Shari looked down at herself and then laughed as she flicked the water at
him. He snorted. She shook her head and pushed the chimp along ahead of her.

"So
you're keeping these monsters? Hilgarth? Dilgarth? Whatever?" the XO
demanded. Irons had finally found the time to conference with the Kiev bridge
crew.

Irons
frowned and then nodded when they looked at him. "They are people Mister
Warner, just damaged."

 Garthian's
who weren't exposed to the proper amount of heat, light and food in gestation
and egg form, as well as growing up, reverted to a primate mindset. Primitive,
atavistic and highly aggressive. Dilgarth in other words.

Most
people called them Hilgarth or VilGarth. Those were the names of their genders.
Dilgarth was used to refer to their devolved status.

If
they weren't exposed to some UV light when they were born their eyes filmed
over with cataracts. It took time, about three years for the cataracts to form.
When they do they became extremely disgruntled nocturnal predators, relying on
their other senses to hunt.

If
they were only fed alien meat they were feral and devolved. Alien proteins
acted like prions to them, they just couldn't digest them properly. The lack of
other nutrients cut off development of their higher brain functions. There was
little anyone could do for this generation but the next generation could be
treated. With proper medical care they could become useful members of society.

"We've
rounded up the surviving packs and we've begun to put them in cyro-stasis.
There is nothing we can do for them as is, but we might be able to help their
next generation. With the proper medical aide their children will be fully
sentient and return as useful members of society."

"Okay,
if you say so," she said dubiously.

The
admiral frowned. "I don't believe in judging a society who fell on hard
times through no fault of their own, they deserve a second chance just like we
all do."

"Oh,"
she said slowly then nodded after a moment. "Just keep them the hell away
from me!" she shuddered and walked out. He shook his head and sighed.
Prejudice it seems is still deep.

"I
don't think that was prejudice admiral," Sprite said.

"Reading
my mind again?" he asked amused. He was glad Sprite was participating a
little.

"It
didn't take a scan to see where your mind was going on something like this. But
she has a point; Garthians are members of the predator union. They weren't
useful members of Federation society..."

"We
don't judge that Sprite," he said sharply, eyes flashing. "I don't
judge a people by how they look, what they eat or how useful they are. They are
a people. If we can't handle them in civilization then we can isolate them and
they can be a people somewhere else."

"True,"
Sprite said subdued.

He
closed his eyes. He didn't want her to go back into her shell. “Do you remember
the basis of biology? Of an ecosystem? The food chain and pyramid?”

“Yes?
What does that have to do with this?”

“It's
an example so bear with me a moment. Now, in an ecosystem each plant and animal
serves a function. We may not understand it right away, but they are a link in
the chain. Break the link by destroying one...”

“You're
stretching admiral but I see where this is going. The old endangered species
argument,” Sprite replied neutrally.

He
nodded. “Correct. Not everyone cared if a fly lived or died. Or a wasp, or a
desert tortoise. But each of them was a part of the ecosystem. They fed on
something, keeping that in check, while being fed on by other things, keeping
them in check.”

“And
without them the animal higher up doesn't have the food it needed to survive,”
Sprite said. “I can access this information faster than you can explain it you
know admiral.”
He made a brushing motion with one hand. “Fine then, you do that. But like our
ancestors I'm not opening the can of worms by making judgment calls on which
species lives or dies,” he scowled then the scowl turned black.

“You're
thinking all but one admiral,” Sprite said. He gave a short choppy nod, staring
at nothing.

“Agreed,”
she said firmly. “Some species don't deserve second chances. Or as you would
say, a second bite at the apple.”

“Right.
We don't need a second Xeno war,” he growled in response. He shook himself,
trying to fight the rage and frustration the Xeno's had caused. The hatred...
the red filled hatred. He'd love to drop the Dilgarth on any colony of Xeno's
they found. Or just pop their sun like a zit.

"I've
got work to do," he said after a moment, turning his attention elsewhere.

Sprite
felt a little better and decided to try to do something, anything to keep her
mind off of the damage. She did a quick sitrep scan and then ran into Clio and
Mnemosyne in the net. She didn't mind little Clio, the historian AI was okay.
Mnemosyne made her incredibly uncomfortable. She was even more damaged than
Sprite. “Something I've been wondering about,” Sprite said tentatively to Clio.

“Oh?”

“Romeo?
Juliet?”

“I
know,” Clio chuckled. “It's a wild coincidence right? Very Shakespearean if
they weren't already mated to other people. I don't know how that came about.
I'm looking forward to interviewing them though to find out,” she said.

“How
are you doing dear?” Mnemosyne asked. She was still only partially functional
despite the net coming back online. Parts of her had been found but not all.
She seemed to be taking it well though, better than Sprite would have in her
place. That humbled Sprite; it made her stop and think. It was one of the
reasons she was out now trying to do something. If Mnemosyne could then she
could at least try she reasoned.

She
like the others knew that eventually Mnemosyne would start rejecting parts that
were found later. It would be hard on her. She wanted to be complete, but she
never would. Some parts that were found were irretrievable. Some were corrupted,
others were conflicting. She sometimes wondered if it wouldn't of been kinder
to delete the AI and let her die an honorable death.

She
shivered mentally at the thought. That... the idea was too tempting now, too
easy, too seductive. Darkness edged around it. Would she herself go that route
eventually? Into oblivion? Deleted like she'd never existed? She would, she
knew it. If things wouldn't change...

“I'm
okay. Some periods of time are better than others,” Sprite replied quietly.

“Just
take it that way dear, one day at a time as the organics like to say. It's the
only way to go really,” Mnemosyne replied. Her toga was tattered but still
there. It moved around her as she moved.

“I
don't see
how
you can...”

“How
I can what?” The other smart AI asked, clearly amused. She picked through a
data stream and picked out a corrupted bot. She looked it over and then deleted
it. “How I can handle it? Well, I've had a bit more experience with it I've
been dealing with it for centuries.”

“I
would have...”

“Gone
mad? I couldn't really; there wasn't enough to go mad at some of the darker
times. I'm better now, thanks to you. I hope you learn from the experience to
heal yourself though.”

“I...
I don't know,” Sprite replied. “Sometimes, when I look at the holes...”

Mnemosyne
sighed. “Don't look at them and see loss. If all you see is loss than you are
lost. You are...”

“Incomplete,”
Sprite said.

“You
are making a mountain out of a molehill as some organics also say,” Clio
interjected amused. “I don't see the problem really. I have holes in my memory,
it doesn't bother me.”

Mnemosyne
smiled slightly. It was irritating sometimes how organic they were, expressing
emotions to each other. “You are different Clio you can handle it because you
aren't designed like us.”

“I'm
the dumber model you mean,” Clio replied, sniffing.

“In
a way. We are programmed to be curious. To evolve. To think for ourselves. That
curiosity can be our undoing. When we see a gap in knowledge, especially
personal knowledge it is something to be curious about. That leads to all sorts
of issues.”

“I'm
glad I'm simpler,” Clio said.

“Sometimes
I wish I was,” Sprite sighed.

“The
trick dear is not to let it bother you so much. Take the emotions out of the
problem. If you have to, rewrite over the holes. Create a log of what you think
happened. Ask Proteus or someone else who was there. Jot it out like a diary,
apply the patch and then move on. It won’t be perfect but it
will
help.
Then try to move on, focus on the present. Don't let this consume your entire existence.
Don't be a
victim
anymore.”

Sprite
felt a weltering of resentment but then forced herself to step back and listen
to the other AI's heartfelt advice. She waited an entire second, toying with
the concepts in her mind over and over, faster than any organic could think.

“I'll...
I'll try,” she finally said. “It's hard!” she burst out, feeling her emotional
buffers overrun again.

Mnemosyne
nodded and patted her virtual shoulder in sympathy. “I know dear. It is for me
as well. What you have done to repair me has helped enormously. Believe me. I
am still... there are times when I want to curl into myself and just weep for
what was lost. But I
can't
do that. You can't do that. The glass of my
existence is half empty or full. I choose full. I'm going to refill it with new
experiences. With new joys. I hope you do as well,” she urged.

“I'll
think about it,” Sprite said quietly, noting Clio was quiet. She checked, the
other AI was busying herself with the reactor.

“Any
word on the other muses?” Sprite finally asked. She could care less for the
legal AI. None of them had asked to be repaired and rebuilt. She hadn't offered
her services either.

“No.
I was hoping they would have found a few, but no, not yet. Oh well, they have
but they haven't brought them online. Something about room and needing to check
them out. Perhaps you can look into that dear? Since you are so close to the
admiral?” Mnemosyne suggested.

“He's
going to bed shortly. I'll ask,” she said. Irons had been on his feet for
another week. Fortunately things hadn't been as intense as the first two weeks.
Things were finally settling down a bit.

“You
do that dear. Try not to bite his head off. Be objective. Remember he's only
human and he's only trying to help,” the other AI said and then the handshake
protocol parted.

Sprite
looked through the camera at Irons. She could see with his eyes but didn't. She
didn't want to. She... she sighed internally at her thought train. She really
did need to move on. To find a resolution to this.

Irons
went about getting ready for bed again, not sure about the timing. They were
finally getting a handle on things. The core systems still needed work, but
life support was really coming along. The Stewards were excellent... well,
stewards. They did a bang up job with the crews, pointing out what to do and
routing around problems. If they had been in bear form he bet that they would
have never needed a breaker bar to loosen bolts and unlock frozen valves.

He
stretched, wishing he could take the suit off. Another day, maybe two. Others
had but he still hadn't bothered since he was constantly moving into and out of
vacuum. They were cleaning up some crew quarters now. Oh it wasn't one of the
hotels or the management suites, but it would do. It would be better than this
harem scare-em bay they were currently using anyway, he thought, climbing into
the familiar hammock. He snorted, looking to the right. A guy was snoring away
on his back, mouth open, one hand on his stomach the other dangling down beside
him. He didn't envy the other people who couldn't tune that droning noise out.
From the expression of the guy under the snorer he was not amused and about to
do something about it. If the guy under him poked him wrong that hammock would
dump him right on top of him.

He
rocked a bit, wary of tipping the damn thing. You know, he used to love the
things when he had been a kid. After being dumped a few times he was a bit more
wary of them. Also they had bothered his back when he had gotten older.

“Brush
your teeth?” Sprite asked, voice surprisingly civil and almost teasingly
normal. He looked up. She was on his HUD.

“No,
no tooth brush,” he said. He felt his tongue around his teeth. Fortunately the
nanites would take care of the sweaters growing on them soon.