Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (90 page)

But
not everyone liked living in an industrial setting. He knew it, understood it.
He shrugged the thought off as Sprite continued.

“Fu.
He thought he'd set you up as Hercules.”

“Drawing
a parallel?” Irons asked. He was pretty sure Defender had firewalled the
sensors in the suite. Just to be sure he checked through his implants. Sure
enough there was a firewall there. Good. They could talk in privacy.

“Hercules?
Mythological Greek hero? Half god? Son of Zeus?” Sprite said with some heat.

He
nodded. “I know all that.”

“Then
you know about his fabled labors? Fight a hydra, immortal lion, and clean out a
giant stable?”

“Ah.
I see where this is going. You think Fu set up the station move to keep me
busy?” he asked with a small smile.

She
nodded. “Got it in one. I don't think he thought it out though,” she mused. “I
think he either thought you'd fight it and then be seen as unable and unworthy
of your name...”

“Or
I'd do it and it would keep me busy for weeks and months?” He asked. He had no
intention of that. He had his own plan already in mind. He just didn't want to
let them in on it just yet.

“Something
like that,” Sprite said with a nod. “I don't think that he thought that you
would readily accept the challenge,” she said.

“Well,
I haven't really. Just put it on a back burner.”

“I
don't think he's seen that yet. I think he'll realize it and start to agitate
for you to follow up on the promise.”

“Can't
have that?”

“He's
trying to marginalize you admiral. To box you in, force you to commit errors in
judgment.”

“Why?”

Sprite
sighed internally. The admiral had a bad habit of letting others get away with
crap. With believing the best in people right from the start. It was a great
asset but also a weakness, it was a form of blinders that opened your flanks
and rear up to attacks. Attacks that were more likely to succeed because he
didn't fight back. “To make you look bad in front of the others. In short
politics.”

The
admiral pursed his lips. What she was saying had merit. “Did he ever consider
what I would look like if I achieved the move?” he finally asked.

“That's
just it,” she said, smiling nastily. “If you do he gets credit for the move
since he
suggested
it. Not you for putting words to action. The dreamer
always gets more credit than the person who actually buckles down and fulfills
the dream.”

He
frowned, turning the idea over in his head. She was right, he knew it. “Cold
Sprite. Accurate to some degree I admit. Cynical. I... I'm not happy that I
agree with it either. I've seen it before.”

“Naturally
you have. Politicians have played the game for centuries,” she replied with a
smirk.

“And
I know it's a pain in the ass. A cloud to work out from under. A good catch
twenty two actually. Either way he wins. Or thinks he will anyway.”

“Thinks?”
she asked dubiously.

The
admiral smiled slightly. “I'll still be known as the person who got it done.
Actually
we
will. We meaning the people on this station. First bringing
it back to life and then moving it. That should be impressive to some.”

“Also
a lot of work.”

“Which
should cement some teams together. Work of such proportions usually does,” he
said as he finished getting undressed. He tossed the cover all to the
refresher. The house bot caught it and buzzed in annoyance before loading it to
be cleaned.

“That
and trying to survive,” Sprite said.

“That
too,” he said climbing into bed. He settled down and got comfortable. “Night
Sprite,” he said, turning onto his side.

“Good
night admiral,” she said.

Five
days after the ship sent the radio greetings to Antigua the ship finally
received incredulous contact with the planet. The contact was brief but
ecstatic.

Barry
caught the transmission and relayed it to Kiev in case they missed it. He was
bored, still an hour out from first ice rock. It took several hours of trial
and error but finally Barry learned how to use his shuttle to wrangle some ice
asteroids and comets and bring them back to the factory satellite.

He
had conserved his fuel on the trip out, coasting a good part of the way. It
wasn't simply economics; he wanted to be sure he had enough to get back home.
Once under boost he calculated the return and nodded. It took him a little more
than a day to get the first load back to the station. By the time he arrived he
had it down in his mind. He was also in desperate need of a shower and clean
sheets.

On
his second trip out he was accompanied by a pair of tug bots and shuttle 3. He
was amused by all the hoopla. “Getting organized here, regular three ring
circus,” he said over the radio. He looked at the station. It's changing now,
clearly lit and coming to life nicely.

“Just
shut up and wrangle rocks Barry,” the Naga controller responded with a laugh a
few minutes later.

“Glad
I'm an AU out. He's nice on the radio but a pain in the ass in person,” Bert
said over the local net to shuttle 2. Barry snorted but didn't respond when he
heard it.

“I
heard that,” Zarek said a few minutes later.

Bert
looked over to shuttle 2. “Oops,” he said. He could see Barry in the shuttle
shaking his head through the window. Kiev had a lot better and longer ears
these days.

Each
shuttle has a crew of three to wrangle rocks. Two pilots and a crew chief.
Barry's crews were eager to try something different. All the pilots loved any
form of stick time, but milk runs up and down from the surface of various
worlds got old fast. Then there was the long wait in between, months in hyper.
This was something different, something interesting.

Unfortunately
it was also something these cargo haulers weren't really built to do. He should
have sent a maintenance boat out but Captain Chambers didn't want them out of
his sight. Both boats were busy tearing into the station now. Kiev had shuttle
1 as over watch for her work crews and the crews out on the station hull.

“We
really need another shuttle,” Barry said, glancing at his copilot.

The
Veraxin's mandibles chittered. “You're telling me?” he asked after a moment.

“Just
sayin,” Barry said with an uncomfortable shrug as he racked the mike. The mike
was attached to the ceiling with a bungee cord. He liked this system over using
a wireless headset sometimes. It made him feel like an old Earth trucker.

“Are
you going to do something about it?” the Veraxin asked.

Barry
grunted, jiggling the yoke a little. They were on autopilot, both of them
really didn't need to be sitting up and watching. But there really wasn't
anything else to do other then sit and read or talk.

He
frowned in thought. The yellow bus was now making the runs between the station
and the ship. It was tight quarters for some but fortunately a short trip. “I
dunno. I've got crews working on the other shuttles but I just don't know.”
Each of the shuttles had had a minor overhaul recently. They couldn't afford to
have any of the craft down for long right now. He was going to have to talk to
someone soon; there wasn't any slack in the system. And what were they going to
do when Kiev went to the planet? They needed all four shuttles there after all.
So then what? Leave the boats? But what about... well technically the station
didn't really need a shuttle if there was nothing to shuttle too. But he'd
still find out. They also needed a shuttle on over watch in case of a Dutchman.

“Yup,
we definitely need another shuttle,” Barry sighed, sitting back in his seat.
He'd have to look into picking one up from the station. They had to have one
right?

“Or
two. Or three. I wonder what kinds though?” Ger'kuk asked with a hand gesture.

Barry
rubbed his jaw. “You know, that's a good question. Do we have any specs on
other shuttles?”

“I've
got some spec sheets on a tablet. I like to look over them while using the
facilities.”

“You
mean you like to drool over them while taking a crap. I get it,” Barry smiled.
Human males were still into ogling sexy material of one sort or another... or
reading mags. Veraxins tended to stick to the e-mags and spec sheets. He didn't
really see the appeal, they were better for trying to get to sleep then trying
to... well... you know!

He
came to a decision. What the hell, there was nothing better to do right now.
“You know what; send me what you've got. The specs I mean. We'll look over
them. Hell, we've got nothing better to do. We've got what? Eight hours before
we reach the first turn over?” he asked checking the clock again. Yup, right
around eight hours and five minutes.

“I'll
get the material,” the Veraxin chittered, clearly excited. He climbed out of
his saddle and moved off in between the seat and then off to the back. Barry
watched him go and then smirked a little. Professional eyes turned their
attention to the readouts for a brief check. Everything was green. It was weird
seeing the shuttle like that, in the green. He'd lived his entire life with
only one or two systems ever getting into the green. None ever stayed for long
that way though. It was nice seeing everything running smooth for once.

He
even had a work crew on Kiev now. He had a dozen maintenance techs now. He
hadn't gotten his hands dirty in weeks. Hell he should be back there,
overseeing them rather than out here playing in the outer dark. He shook his
head, hearing the noises of rustling behind him. Apparently the tablet with the
specs on it had been misplaced. Typical. Ger'kuk did it all the time. He
snorted in soft amusement and then looked out to the star filled void beyond.

Of
course selling the powers that be on making more shuttles would get
interesting. He only had a couple of hours when he got back before Kiev was
scheduled to leave too. He'd planned on some rack time for then. Damn. If he
really wanted to do this he'd have to get a proposal roughed out and off now so
they could spend hours on end bitching about it before making a decision.
Wonderful. Now he hated the task.

Ger'kuk
waved an upper arm. The tablet was in his pincer. “Got it,” he said moving in
between the seats to climb onto his saddle. “I want a Avatar One oh five niner.
She's hot.”

“Ah...”
Barry blinked as the Veraxin showed him the image on the tablet screen. It was
huge if he was reading the scale right. A lifting body, but big enough to park
this shuttle in its cargo bay!

“Are
you nuts? We can't fit that in the Kiev! Damn! That's as big... shit! Let me
see that!” he said, reaching for the tablet.

Barry
took the tablet from the chitter laughing Veraxin and then pursed his lips and
started thumbing through the index. There were dozens, no hundreds of designs.
Wow! “Time to go shopping,” he murmured.

The
teams of workers find all sorts of parts in parts cages all over the station.
Some were in formerly inaccessible areas; some were in areas that the Dilgarth
had occupied. Now they were running new inventories and assigning a bot or
person to look after the goods until they can be moved to a central location or
distributed and used.

Of
course any useable food stores had been used a long time ago. Either by the
sentient or semi-sentient survivors or by the all too numerous pests on the
station. Vermin control was an issue still. Traps had been laid out but only a
few of the damn rats had been caught. The things were too smart. Now that the
Dilgarth were in stasis and the tribes were mostly eating from the food
replicators the vermin had nothing to keep them in check. Their populations
were expanding fast. That wasn't good they cleared out entire cargo areas in
days if left unchecked.

Of
course they had a lot of places to check. The food was gone of course. That
left the packaging and other materials for the food stores and the various
parts and equipment overlooked by the tribes. Since none of it was in any of
the surviving databases the objects had to be scanned and inputted back into
the computer in a tedious labor intensive task of taking inventory.

It
was a simple matter to train a few people to scan barcodes into the computer
with a hand held scanner. Some of the tribesmen resent the implication that
they were simpletons, but the resentment is ignored. Many want to run around
with guns and Stane is adamantly refusing that request.

Of
course a lot of the parts were either unusable or useless for repairing the
station. Those that were judged as such ended up being recycled.  This added to
their meager supply of material for the replicators. It was a small drop in the
bucket but every little bit helped. Especially since the materials were already
refined and processed.

Irons
even used parts of the station for material in order to keep things
progressing. If a section of the station is severely damaged and wasn't going
to be used or rebuilt anytime soon it is stripped, sealed off, and then the air
is pumped out. They will deal with it when they have the time and resources.