“Um...” She blinked in confusion. Did he really say what she thought he just said? Was he for real? What was next? She realized she was distracted and exhausted from being on duty for nearly two days.
“I suggest we get the secondary power plants on line just in case or repairing the fuel and plasma lines. Which do you want me to get on first?” he asked.
She blinked at him in confusion then as one she and the others turn on the captain. He blinked in surprise. Her eyebrow rose in inquiry.
“It doesn't sound like he's holding a grudge,” Cora said softly, one hand on her husband's arm.
The admiral turned his attention on the captain. “Sorry we couldn't get the reactor up to one hundred percent captain. I estimate the repairs will get her to about fifty seven percent. Maybe a little higher but not much more,” Irons mused. Warner and O'Mallory exchanged surprised looks. A few people slowly began to smile or grin. Kiev hadn't had a reactor at that level in centuries. The ops officer was just imagining what he could do with the excess power. Then the thought of having that much power to deal with sobered him. What if he didn't have a use? Would it cause a blow out?
“We didn't have enough time to get more emitters built and installed. The carbon carbon and ceramic bonding took longer than I had wanted,” the Admiral sighed.
The captain pursed his lips and looked at Warner who was looking amused but up to the ceiling bulkhead. “Um, that's all right,” the captain said gruffly.
“I think that's quite well since the reactor has never been above twenty percent in my time,” the chief said dryly.
“True,” the captain's wife said with a nod. “Admiral,” she turned her attention to Irons. “Do get some food and rest and then work on a subsystem.”
“Oh I can function for days without either ma'am. I think the chief and her crew need the downtime though, they look beat,” he said sympathetically as he got up. His arm disengaged. Cables dropped from it. Ports sealed. After a moment his arm looked a little shiny but almost normal. He flexed it and then nodded.
“Chief?” he asked innocently. The officers and family of the captain were looking a little stunned. One guy's jaw was hanging wide open. The Veraxin's mandibles were also slack.
“Huh? Oh um, yeah... um...”
“I'd prefer to work on the power distribution system or the overextended life support systems over say something like the hyperdrive or sensors right now. Triage you know. Stick to the critical things and work down the list one by one. Though I could work on rebuilding the computer network. Sprite's still bugging me about it.”
“Am not,” Sprite said only to him. He ignored the rejoinder. “Okay, not much anyway. I'm not that much of a nag.” She felt him suppress a snort.
“Um... Work on the plasma conduits. Track down and patch the leaks. Can you make new...” she blinked and her nostrils flared. “Oh. Of course I can, how silly of me.”
He smiled politely. “Sure. Send me the wish list and materials. I'll need to tap your reactor once it's balanced and you've rebuilt your reserves though.”
“Of course,” she said with a nod. Irons had a point. He was all business. He didn't seem to be brown nosing, just being helpful.
“And just what do you get out of this?” the captain demanded. From his tone he sounded like he couldn't quite believe what was happening.
Irons turned to him. But before he could answer the captain's daughter did. “A ride. To where ever he wants right?” she asked. He nodded.
“Certainly. I also like to keep busy. I get cabin fever easily when I don't have a project to work on. And well... I'm trying not to sound too selfish but my own brass ass is on the line here. I'd rather not have something blow up or short out on my watch.”
“Agreed,” the captain's wife said with a shudder. “I heard what you and your AI did with the kids.”
“Um,” Irons looked amused. “Yes, I'm well, I teach as well. I had my salad days teaching at the academy. It's part of our duty,” he said resting his left hand on his chest solemnly.
“Duty?” O'Mallory asked.
“To pass on the skills needed to the next generation,” he said looking at her. Her eyes met his. After a moment she nodded in understanding.
“Carry on then,” the captain said gruffly leaving.
“Give him time,” the wife said, hand on the rim of the hatch. “Coming dear?” she asked of her daughter. Her daughter gave Irons a long look and then followed. The Veraxin and some of the other bridge officers followed in their wake.
“He's...”
“He's the captain. Everyone has their own distinctive command style. Being in command is hard,” the admiral said.
“He doesn't have to be an ass about it,” O'Mallory muttered.
“Sometimes you have to be,” Irons shrugged.
“Speaking from experience?” Warner asked.
Irons smiled a tight lipped smile. “Some. Yes I've had my time in the captain's chair. Been there, done that. Moved on. I'm not interested in stealing his command. Far from it. I just want a ride. Helping you is just gravy,” he said with a shrug.
“Okay,” O'Mallory said amused. “Let me make sure there is nothing critical then I'm going to bed down. I'll get that list for you here in a second. Let me find a tablet to jot it down.”
ñChapter 4
It wasn't as simple as just turning the reactor back on of course, they had to get it to stabilize and to keep it stable while powering up essential services. The Ops officer, a Veraxin named Hir'ruk was rather helpful in that regard.
Hir'ruk had a miser's approach to handling ops, as most good ops officers should. Once the mains were back online he was busy routing around non essential systems to bring the life support systems back up to full power.
They had a few minor blow outs, power overloads to deal with but overall the life support threat was ended after a half hour. When it was under control the Veraxin turned his attention to the RCS thrusters and the drive.
Irons had hoped to have a bit of a break before diving into the repairs. He wanted to study the situation, study what was and wasn't critical to repair. The crew however were diving in with unbridled enthusiasm. He now regretted his suggestion to the chief an hour ago.
There was one plasma blow out; fortunately it was in the superstructure away from the inhabited volumes. Barry had a Scarab maintenance boat on its way out to do repairs. Proteus had routed around the damage but the patch was temporary, the re-routed stream passed through sections that had poor containment.
“I want that damage assessment yesterday Barry,” O'Mallory growled over the link. Her eyes were blood shot. Someone had gotten out stims for the crew but it didn't look like it had helped her much. Her shoulders were slumped. Several people had suggested she get some downtime, one tactfully, one not so much. She'd bitten the heads off of both people and sent them into a chastened retreat.
Irons had seen it before, seen people work miracles when under pressure. He'd seen them pull off all sorts of things when the boss was in a foul mood, mainly to get out from under the cloud. More than one team had papered over issues just to get the boss to go to bed. It hadn't helped the situation however.
O'Mallory had a good team he mused, looking around. She was well trained in people management and the hardware. She was also well liked, something not all leaders managed to attain. Liked and respected were two qualities of a good leader, ones she had apparently. It helped that she, like Irons, liked to get her hands dirty. Irons snorted softly as O'Mallory wiped her hands on a dirty rag.
She turned her attention on him and he cocked his head. If she thought she was going to outlast him she was sadly mistaken. “RCS systems are coming up. Port side has plasma and is powering up. Ten minutes I believe,” he said, glancing at the noncom working on that project. The male human looked up and nodded.
“Four minutes chief. We're sending a trickle stream to power the EPS conduits first. We don't want another blow out,” he said wiggling his long ears and
then blinking goat eyes. His head was mostly bald. He had a long braid front and back though. One down his back and his beard was braided. Little bits of circuitry were braided into the brown hair.
“Lee good work. Keep me posted,” she nodded to him. The man turned back to his station and tapped at the controls.
Human was more of a... not quite state of mind but broad selection since gene grafts and mods had become available over the past one thousand years making things really confusing sometimes Irons mused. Now a days the basic human form was limited, many mods didn't survive or breed after the Xeno war, but some like this noncom did thrive. Good.
“Barry what's the hold up?” O'Mallory growled looking up as her hand stabbed down to the intercom. Irons winced at the attenuation squeal in the reply.
Barry tried again before he got the gain under control. “Working on it chief. We've disconnected the boat and we're running post now. We'll be clear of the bay in a few minutes.”
“Fine, take your time, we're just leaking plasma all over the void...” she said with a suffering air. Irons shook his head.
“Chief we're working on it,” Barry said, sounding testy. O'Mallory's eyes flashed. “You can't just unhook a boat and power it up after we've been using it as an auxiliary power source chief. Hell! By rights I should stand her down and do a full overhaul before we send her out!”
“We don't have time for that!” the chief said in exasperation, slapping her hand down against the console.
“You don't think I don't know that chief? That's why I'm only refueling the bird and giving it a simple preflight post. Don't get your knickers in a twist, we'll get it done.”
“Barry...” O'Mallory growled dangerously.
“Don't push it chief. You handle the big boat, I handle the little ones remember?” Barry growled back. “Boat bay clear,” he said with a click as he signed off.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, staring at nothing. Around them the work continued. Irons caught a few of the crew sneaking glances at each other.
“EVA techs are on the hull. They've patched the two minor leaks chief,” a tech reported.
“Good,” she said. “I'm going on walk about. Keep me posted,” she said walking off.
“Admiral we need you in your um...”
“My shuttle?” he asked amused as he turned to the Veraxin tech. The Veraxin nodded. “Replicator issues?”
“Yes. We need more plasma conduit and well...”
“The replicator balked. I know. Do you have the materials on hand?” he asked.
“Yes. We're um, sort of in a hurry.”
“I know. I'll get on it,” Irons replied as he got up and walked out.
Irons scanned through the list and added to it. It was a long list and getting longer every minute. He considered taking his replicator down to make a copy but discarded the idea. He could sure, but he was still not happy about the captain and the crew's actions. Some of them were okay, but he wasn't going to go out of his way to make life that easy for them. Not after what they had tried to pull on him.
“I'm going to the galley. Anyone want anything?” a tech asked. He looked up.
“Hang on a sec, I'll come with you,” Irons said. He got up and stretched. The tech looked nonplussed but then shrugged.
“Sure, this way. Try to keep up old timer,” he said. Irons snorted softly following along.
They made their way through the ship. He's surprised by the number of people milling about. Apparently not many were crew. Nearly half were old or young. Some looked very old. He'd have to talk with Sprite about doing a demographic later.
The companionways and hatches were reasonably clean. Here and there he spotted a crew of elves cleaning. A few of the crew stopped to watch them pass then go about their business talking quietly. Gossip, figures, Irons thought with a small smile.
They picked their way along the companionways, dodging the occasional pedestrian or piece of equipment. The walls were clean but still stained with stuff. Apparently solvents were in short supply.
Here and there he could see the ship was showing her age. Some of the metal fittings were rusted, some were bent or torn. Bulkhead false panels were cracked. Paint was peeling. It took a lot of heat or wear to peal that paint, it was normally bonded to the metal during fabrication.
The ship was definitely old. Time had definitely not been a friend to her despite the care the crew had tried to provide. They didn't have the parts, that was what it really boiled down to. Well, he could help them change that. With the right material, people, and time they could fix just about anything on this ship.
He paused in the galley hatch, losing his guide in the crowd. There were a lot of bioforms within, Terrans of various breeds and races, Naga, Gashg, Elves, Veraxins, Telerites, and Talasians.
“It appears that you need to get in line admiral,” Sprite informed him. He looked at the long line winding its way through the place to servers dishing out mush behind wooden counters. The iron pots of gruel didn't look very appealing.
“Bugger that,” he said going over to a food replicator.
“It's broke son. Best get in line,” an old Veraxin chittered.
“Well, let's just see about that,” Irons said. He pulled the panel off and started rooting around. He felt Proteus go to work. After a moment all the repairs he could manage had been complete. “Clogged lines and some IT issues,” he said putting the cover on.
“See?” The Veraxin said. “Waste of time.” All four eyes blinked as Irons touched the on patch and then selected a cup of coffee and an energy bar. The replicator hummed for a moment then a cup of steaming liquid appeared. Irons took it and sniffed.
“Metallic. The tanks need to be purged and cleaned,” he said. He took a sip and grimaced at the after taste. “Water line too,” he said. He put that on the list. The entire filtration system probably needed to be cleaned and overhauled.
“My... it works?” The Veraxin asked as people around then stopped and stared.
The admiral looked over the cup as he took another cautious sip and shrugged slightly. “Just needed a little TLC. Just because it's old doesn't mean it's worthless,” Irons replied. He took one energy bar and handed it to the Veraxin. The old Veraxin took it with his upper true claw. His lower hands were withered. His right lower arm ended at the first elbow joint. His chitin was faded and dry. It was cracked. From the sound of it he was well past his prime, creaking and making crunching sounds as plates rubbed together. It was probably painful to move. He had some malnutrition issues, as Veraxin’s grew older they needed more boron supplements in their diet to maintain their exoskeleton.
“Thank you lad,” the Veraxin said with a bob of a nod.
“You're welcome,” he said. He pulled a second and third bar out and then a simple sandwich and then turned looking for a seat.
Some of the people glared at him. He hid a sigh until one of the human techs he recognized waved him over to an empty table. “Take care,” he told the Veraxin in passing. The Veraxin nodded again.
Irons made it half way to the chair before he heard people murmuring around the replicators. He turned to see one punch the display and order a drink. The volunteer stuck a blue mug into the replicator and then waited as it filled. He snorted as they gathered around to watch the volunteer take a sip.
“How'd you do that?” The tech asked as he set his food down and then pulled the chair away from the table. He looked back the way he came and then to the tech as he sat. “I'm an engineer. Old habit. I like to fix things.”
“Oh.”
“Can you show me?” the tech asked as Irons picked his sandwich up and took a bite. Irons chewed thoughtfully and then nodded.
“Sure. If we've got power. I can show you how to use a food replicator to make simple parts too.”
“Really?” the tech asked in disbelief.
“Yes. I showed um....” Sprite helpfully projected a name. “Martha how in my shuttle a couple of hours ago. Food replicators ca
n replicate more than just well... food.” He indicated the cheap thin plastic cup and then the plate.
The young man studied both. Irons pocketed the energy bars in a breast pocket and then pushed the small plate over to the young man. He watched eating the sandwich as his fellow diner turned it over and over and then showed it to the other patrons.
“It's simple really. Plastic is one of the easiest items for a replicator to make. Easier than food actually. It's all chemistry.”
“Huh.”
He finished eating and then showed them how to repair food replicators in the galley and explained how to apply what they learned to a few crew members. He showed them how to replicate basic parts with them too.
“Someone want to tell me why there is a power surge in Galley five?” the overhead squawked.
“Who's that?” Irons asked looking up.
“Ops,” his fellow patron winced.
He opened a channel. “This is admiral Irons. I've repaired some of the replicators in this galley and I've been showing the crew how to use them and repair them. Sorry for the surprise.”
“You've been drawing a great deal of power. More than I've anticipated. Next time warn me,” the bridge officer chittered in annoyance.
“You can prioritize the power demand and ration it if necessary ops. Draw out the replicator time as needed. It's annoying but understandable.” He looked around the room. Some of the people were looking sheepish. The cook looked amused. The server looked thoroughly confused.
“I'll mind you to not tell my job. I know what I'm doing. Ops out,” the Veraxin told him testily. Irons shrugged it off.
“If any of you need the simple parts for the repairs to the ship I suggest you use what I told you but do so sparingly,” he said to the room at large. He turned to his dinner mate. “Thanks for the company son,” he said.
“Don't mention it,” the young man said surprised and amused. He nodded stroking his goatee as Irons left without a backwards glance.
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 9
