The Wandering Engineer 4
Ghost Station
By Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl
Copyright:
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to other people is in parody or is purely coincidental. ;)
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions thereof in any form.
Copyright 2012 by Chris Hechtl
ISBN:
BN#:
Cover art Copyright 2012 by Chris Hechtl
Proof read and edited by Gord Archer, Jacob Larson
Dedication:
I'd like to dedicate this book to my dad. He's a grumpy pain in the A$$ but he's a rock. Maybe someday I can be just as good a rock to the next generation.
Special thanks to Gord, Jacob, Mechmaster, and all those who offered to proof read this. Thanks!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
ñ..... Chapter 2
ñ..... Chapter 3
ñ..... Chapter 4
ñ..... Chapter 5
ñ..... Chapter 6
ñ..... Chapter 7
ñ..... Chapter 8
ñ..... Chapter 9
ñ..... Chapter 10
ñ..... Chapter 11
ñ..... Chapter 12
ñ..... Chapter 13
ñ..... Chapter 14
ñ..... Chapter 15
ñ..... Chapter 16
ñ..... Chapter 17
ñ..... Chapter 18
ñ..... Chapter 19
ñ..... Chapter 20
ñ..... Chapter 21
ñ..... Chapter 22
ñ..... Chapter 23
ñ..... Chapter 24
ñ..... Chapter 25
ñ..... Chapter 26
ñ..... Chapter 27
ñ..... Chapter 28
ñ..... Chapter 29
ñ..... Chapter 30
ñ..... Chapter 31
ñ..... Chapter 32
ñ..... Author's afterward:
ñ..... Dramatic Personnel
ñ..... Appendix
ñ..... Sneak Peek
Act I
Chapter 1
After taking his leave of the freighter Destiny the admiral made his way to his new transport, a kilometer long bulk cargo starship the Kiev221. Destiny was already on her way out of the system so there was no turning back. En route he used the rebuilt fleet launch's passive sensors to get a better feel for the ship.
The ship had an oval shaped bow which jutted out from the main body and then extended to the mid section as a spine, with a recessed belt line extending around it. On either side of the spine were giant cylindrical cargo pods. Each were easily two hundred meters in diameter and extended a good eight hundred meters of the length of the ship. Force emitter pods, tacked panels, and other things were grafted all over the sides of the hull. Lights from windows cut into the cargo pods, sensor pods, and almost but not quite dark airlocks littered the beltway and sides as make shift running lights.
Aft of the main section the ship was made up of truss sections and giant fuel pods that ran to the main fusion drive. There were two drive nacelles that had seen better times. On either side of the engines, three sail like radiator spars extended horizontally. They were heavily patched; he noted parts from several different ships patched in. One of the radiators looked like it had came from a space station, another on the port side was pretty chewed up. Still another was bent and stuck out like an errant cow lick.
Kiev had definitely been past its prime centuries ago. Hell she might have been well past her prime even before the Xeno war started! That was to be expected after all, no one was building or really maintaining ships or technology any more. Or at least not in the past seven centuries after the last gasp of the Xeno war and the fall of the Federation.
Bulk freighters normally got the short end of the stick from their corporate masters. They were expected to make long runs, constantly in use with little or no time in port for repairs. Repairs cost money, money to pay the ship fitters and money lost in cargo the ship could have been hauling. No corporation allowed a ship into port for repairs unless she was seriously damaged.
The fact that the elderly ship was functional let alone mobile was a huge testimony to the commitment of her crew. Any other ship would have been turned into a station or been lost in hyper a long long time ago. To keep the ship flying at all was incredible. She had a good crew, a crew that loved her. That was good, he could use that.
Drive pods from what looked like a yacht, and subspace freighter were grafted to her port mid side in place of her usual RCS systems that would have been located there. He wasn't sure how practical that was, after all the smaller drives would be almost completely ineffective in maneuvering the big ass freighter around. Then again a bulk freighter really wasn't known for its speed.
Her hull was heavily patched, some of the skin was bluish, and others had rainbow colors. He wasn't sure if it was because they came from various sources or from extended time in space. There were definite signs of meteorite strikes along her upper starboard hull. Yup, she'd been through a few tough times.
Passive sensors told him her sensors were myopic, most likely down or relying on shuttle grade sensors. They probably wouldn't pick him up on their lidar system until he was a kilometer or two out. He heard the Destiny talking to the Kiev on the guard channel, and snorted as captain Ferguson informed the Kiev to take care of him and described him as a priceless treasure.
He grimaced and activated the communications. “Fleet Launch to Kiev 221 prepared to dock.”
It took a full standard minute before he received a response. “Roger um, Fleet Launch. Our port bay is ready when you are.” He winced at the static and interference in that transmission. Obviously their communications needed work if they couldn't handle something at this short a range. He was less than a hundred kilometers out, approaching the starboard side.
Getting permission to land in the port shuttle bay, he performed a slow spin around the ship and lined up for his approach.
“Not much to look at,” Sprite said sounding a little put out. He had kept the sensor scans to passive scans. Sprite however was a bit more direct. He noted but didn't comment when she went active with all the sensors.
“But it's home, at least for now.” He shrugged off the scan she performed. They didn't protest so he didn't concern himself over it.
“Another challenge,” she sighed. “You and Proteus. I bet the two of you are just aching to dig into her engineering. And I suppose you want me to play software repair lady again?”
He checked the stats on the shuttle and then shrugged. “If it's not too much trouble. After all your neck is on the line right along with mine. I'd prefer all the creature comforts and not have the ship get sucked down a black hole because of a virus,” he replied dryly.
“Okay, got me there,” she muttered. “I bet this ship doesn't even have a functioning replicator. Talk about a challenge.” She used the fleet launch's sensors to do a deep penetration scan of the vessel. Technically that was illegal and highly rude, but he let it go. Defender and Proteus were both in with her, he bet for their own reasons. Defender to check for security threats, Proteus to see what the damage was. Hell, he couldn't resist himself. He flicked a glance at the sensor recordings. Yes, it was a big ship, far far past her prime, and over extended. Yes, she was in trouble. Metal fatigue alone was probably a major issue.
“I think they will be glad we've come along here admiral, this place is a rat trap.”
“Rats probably abandoned ship a long long time ago,” he joked weakly.
“You kn
ow you're not exactly helping your cause when you undermine your own argument admiral,” Sprite sighed.
“True,” he snorted. “Tricky bit here.”
The bay doors opened in fits and starts before getting fully open. He shook his head in resignation at the sight of worn parts and skeletons of stripped shuttles scattered all over the bay. Cables snaked along the floor and walls; some looked like they were live. One was even venting puffs of atmosphere. He took a moment to call the ship, and informed the bridge the bay was fouled and he couldn’t land without using his RCS in the main bay. Using a small craft's Reactionary Control System wasn't as stupid as using a wedge but it was dangerous and the thruster gas did damage to whatever it touched. From the look of the pitting on the bay's deck that was apparently normal.
The communications tech was surprised, but acknowledged his dry observation. He turned the shuttle and used his implants to guide the shuttle backwards into the bay.
About a hundred meters out Sprite found a clear space near the rear of the bay near another shuttle and highlighted it. He had to cut his impellers so they wouldn’t kick the parts up with their force emitters or rip into the hull of the ship. With his impellers down he felt naked, however he expertly maneuvered the shuttle with his RCS into position and dropped the landing gear. Gently he settled the ship down onto the deck, and then winced when he heard crunching and pings. “FOD,” he grumbled darkly. He wasn't at all happy about that. Foreign Object Debris was a big no no when it came to ships in space. There was no telling when bits impacting a ship would do damage. His estimation of the crew dropped considerably.
“Not as bad as we had feared admiral. I am not detecting any damage beyond cosmetic,” Proteus informed him a moment later. “I do recommend refueling however. Using the RCS to come and go from this bay will use a great deal of fuel over time.”
“Noted,” he replied with a nod. Proteus was online all the time now, like Sprite and Defender. Before... before he'd only booted Proteus's full cognitive functions when he needed them. Now he just left the AI online all the time. It was another comforting presence in this fallen time.
He'd been forced to go public with his AI in Pyrax. He was uncertain about keeping them public here. Technically they were classified. He'd have to see where things went and decide in the future.
The bay doors began to cycle closed, and he turned to the post flight check chores, trying to ignore the struggling doors in his peripheral vision. He could see a gear that had broken teeth on it so it was skipping. He was surprised it hadn't knocked the door off the tract and wedged it open. He called the bridge and informed them that he had landed and finished post ops as the doors sealed and the chamber filled with atmosphere once more. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and then turned to his gear.
“This better be legit or we're in deep shit,” Quinna O'Mallory commented, watching the feed. “Nice piloting. I'm sorry to have to tear the guy's bird up.”
“I thought we weren't going to do that?” Barry asked sounding surprised and a little dismayed. She looked at him and grimaced. Barry was a bit squeamish about shuttles. She had to be practical though, the good of the many outweighed the good of the one after all.
“No, not even... ah,” she nodded, watching the man unload a pair of duffels and a floating cargo pallet filled with gear. So, he was on the level. From the looks of things that cargo floater was in good shape too. That would be a nice bonus.
She tried to think of what the trade was. After a moment she gave up. Something about three reactor emitters, some other parts for the reactor, one injector and he got transport to the star system of his choice. She shrugged. Well he'd get the transport. If he minded his P's and Q's. If he protested they would probably end up spacing his ass. Pity, the man looked solid and not afraid of getting his hands dirty. She wondered where he had gotten his hands on all the parts.
“That's a military uniform!” Barry said pointing to the man. He recognized the gray coveralls under the military jacket. The cut was distinctive, not the normally shapeless cut of a civilian outfit. Military issue was highly sought after, because it was extremely durable and protected the user from all sorts of bad things. His was also well taken care of, possibly something someone had found recently. It didn't look like a hand me down or something someone pulled off a corpse.
“Yeah, so?” O'Mallory replied absently. She watched in annoyance as the shuttle's hatch closed behind the man on its own. That was irritating. Barry was up to the challenge though; it wasn't like they hadn't done this before after all.
Getting his bag, trade goods, and toolkit, Irons exited the craft and used his implants to lock it down. It's not that he doesn't trust the crew, it's just it was a military craft and they were civilians. Also, well, yes he didn't trust them. He had to be honest with himself. After the repeated attempts on his life on Destiny he was a bit wary of new faces. It would take him a bit of time before he opened up again.
“Ready?” Sprite asked, clearly amused.
“Am I ship shape?” he asked teasing her. One of her functions was as his keeper, his steward. She was supposed to make sure he always looked his best, not an easy task since he frequently ended up with all sorts of chemicals all over his uniform.
“Sure you don't want to wear your formal uniform Admiral? There's nothing like making a positive first impression.”
His eyes narrowed. He knew she knew that he knew she was messing with him. He hated formal wear. Hated it sometimes with a passion. “What? By looking like an overdressed peacock?” he asked wrinkling his nose. “Pass Sprite. Undress day uniform is fine,” he growled, not rising to the bait. He tugged on the hem of his jacket and did a quick look down to make sure he didn't have any stains or wrinkles. He was fairly certain that the uniform would have new ones before long.
Checking his uniform was habit of course, habit from a lifetime of training. His milspec uniform could be cleaned by his nanites; he normally preferred to launder them however. Old habits die hard for old sailors.
“I think we're ready. I detect a waiting party outside the bay lock Admiral.”
“Best not to keep them waiting much longer then,” he said with a nod.
He spun in place, idly checking the gravity, atmosphere, and contents of the bay, while looking for the exit. Sprite highlighted the exit for him. He nodded.
As he went to leave he casually inspected the bay contents, letting Proteus catalog it. Sprite sounded on her best behavior. She wasn't too chipper though, which meant the ship didn't have a WIFI node for her to access. He'd have to remedy that when they got to his quarters.
He strolled over and cycled the door open. As he left the bay he hide his cough at the smell of ozone and unwashed bodies that wafted into his face.
In the corridor he was met by a grim faced exec and a pair of burly guards. The engineer saluted, and formally asked permission to come aboard, startling the exec who quickly recovered and nodded grudgingly.
“My name is Fleet Admiral Irons.”
The exec grunted but his eyes were on the pallet behind Irons. “Those look new. New old stock? Did you find them somewhere?”
“No, I had them built for you,” Irons said looking over his shoulder to the pallet and ignoring the slight of the lack of introduction. “I believe this is the agreed price for my ticket to the next system?” he asked.
The exec nodded. His face however showed a lack of emotion. After a moment a fleeting bleak look crossed his face when he finally looked at Irons. It was replaced by a set jaw and grim determination. Irons wasn't sure what to make of it.
The engineer turned over the hovering platform carrying the three reactor grav emitters as his ticket trade goods to one of the guards.
“I can help your crew install them if you'd like,” Irons suggested.
The exec shook his head. “We have all the help we can handle thank you,” he said politely and then turned away.
Thanking the engineer the exec then ordered t
he guard to get the parts to engineering while he and the remaining guard escorted their guest to his quarters.
The engineer noted the squalor, and sighed internally. The corridor was covered in patches and grime, and many panels were open with wiring and plumbing hanging out. The lighting was bad, and the exec picked his way along the malfunctioning gravity plates.
The engineer listened with half an ear as the exec told him the rules, not to go into restricted areas without authorization, he was a passenger, and he tuned most of it out, allowing his AI to record it for later digestion. Most of it was standard freighter rules anyway.
After going down two deck ladders they arrived at a dark dirty corridor and come to rest at a graffiti covered door. The engineer hid his distaste with a sigh as the exec palmed the door open. There was the sound of rustling and an indignant squeal from within almost immediately.
“What the hell?!?” The exec said poking his head into the darkened room. “Mary? George? What the hell are you doing in here? You're supposed to be on shift right now!” he snarled.
Irons looked away as the angry exec rousted out a pair of crew members who had turned the room into their private love nest. They were both naked; they came out of the room holding their clothes in front of themselves. The guard was amused. He pursed his lips when he looked at the woman. She shot him an angry glare and he looked away fast.
“Mary what the hell's gotten into you? Life support doesn't manage itself you know! You're mother will be furious with you! You are half his age!”
He turned on George who was trying to put his pants on but stumbled. He reached out to keep from falling and accidentally caught Mary who squeaked and moved away. The guy teetered and grabbed the door jamb as he hopped on one foot.
“George you're supposed to be married! What is Iana going to say when she hears of this! You damn fool we don't need her upset right now, we've got the reactor to sort out!” George moved enough out of the way for Irons to see past him and into the room. He frowned, ignoring the scent of sex as he looked around. They chose this rat hole for their illicit love nest?
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 1
