“That's wild,” an orderly breathed. Irons looked over his shoulder. The short Terran was wide eyed in awe but not fear or revulsion.
“You could say that,” the doctor said. Irons shrugged. What they didn't know was that the tools were mostly for show. Oh they did minor fixes, but the real work was going on with his nanites. After a minute Proteus signaled it was finished.
“Done,” he said retracting his arm and letting it hang. The arm returned to normal as he looked at the interior one last time. He flexed his fingers. “It looks like you need to refill the material bins doc. And there is a crimp in the water line. I suggest you ask engineering to send a tech out to fix that.”
“Okay,” she said with a nod. She looked down and made a note then clutched the tablet to her chest. He picked up the cover plate and put it back in place. He tapped the controls and then stepped back. After a moment the replicator's delivery box lit and a plastic container formed.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“First test. POST. Power On Self Test. With a medical replicator you usually make something simple like a saline solution. In this case...” he watched as the red light changed to blue then green and then winked out. He reached in and took out the plastic container and passed it to her.
She turned it over in her hand and then stared at the label. “Betodyne,” she said looking up at him in surprise.
“I suggest you keep things simple doc. It's easier for this old girl to handle and they will be quicker than say something as complex as a synthetic organ.”
She blinked at him. Her ears went flat as she suddenly caught on. “You...”
“This replicator's really made to make medical materials, not complicated things like that. To do it in quantity properly you need a tissue replicator and a bioreactor.”
“Oh.” She stared at him with the rest of the people in the infirmary. He shrugged off the gaze. “My you are full of surprises,” she finally murmured.
“I'll have Sprite send you a list of things to replicate. Make sure to give it plenty of material to use.”
“Feed it, water it...” a tech said sounding a little sarcastic.
“Don't say that. I miss pooky,” a nurse said, pouting.
“Pooky?” Irons asked, crossing his arms. He was glad for the change in subject.
“Our cat. One of the pets. One of our casualties. When things got rough the captain made cuts. We... all the pets were... removed at our last stop,” the doctor said, giving the adults in the bay a cautious look. Grimly they nodded, looking at some of their younger charges. They didn't need or want the kids to get upset again.
Irons nodded in sudden understanding. He didn't want to explain to a kid that their beloved pet was a liability. Ouch.
“Can you do anything about skills?”
“Practice makes perfect doc. I can upload what I've got in my database.”
“I guess that will have to do,” she sighed. Irons was getting a little annoyed with her defeatist attitude.
Irons pursed his lips and then told them about the fleet and how they could sign up for the fleet and receive college training. “Many people are taking advantage of it, and not just the people interested in an engineering or technical track. In your case you could go for a full medical degree at the Anvil College.”
“They have a college? I didn't know that,” someone said. “Must be expensive.”
“It's not as bad as you think. Courses are varied. But if you sign on to the military they pay for your education and implants.”
“Oh.”
“What do they want in return?” a nurse asked.
“Two to four years of active duty then five to ten years of reserves. A reservist is someone who serves once a month and two weeks a year. Or they serve the entire time period for the year. Some people go for twenty year hitches. You'll get a basic check up when you sign on. That includes basic antigen and repair therapies. If you want full antigen and anti-aging treatments then you have to sign on for a twenty year or longer hitch.”
“Oh.”
“Pay is good. Education is required. Right now it's volunteer only and the fleet educates you.”
“Oh,” thoughtfully the tech sat down. The others exchanged looks.
Irons looked around the room, studying them. He doubted any were seriously interested but the pitch wasn't just for them, it was for those they told, and on and on down the grapevine. “Think about it. Check in with a navy recruiter when you run into one. I'll be setting up another base soon.”
“Wow,” an orderly said. He was stripping a bed and Irons wasn't sure if he believed him or not. Most likely not.
“Five to twenty years?” the woman said wrinkling her nose. She wasn't that old. “That's a long time.”
“No,” Irons said turning his attention to the patient who made the comment. “Not if you've got anti-aging treatments. With the basic treatments a Terran can live in their prime for a century or longer. I happen to be over a century in real time age.” He tapped his chest as her eyes widened. “One hundred five by my internal clock's reckoning. I've spent eight decades in the service, seven as an officer. With the full treatments you can be expected to live and function for four or five centuries easily.” He shrugged as people stopped what they were doing to stare at him. One nurse went back to swabbing a wound surprising the patient into gasping.
“Sorry,” she murmured. He looked down at the skinned arm and then seemed to shrug it off. He like everyone else looked at Irons as if he'd come out of some holodrama.
“It used to be a century of service to get full treatment. I've shortened it to twenty years to, well, to be honest, entice more people into joining. Not that they really need much encouragement. Most jump at the free education, good food and steady work.” He smiled for a minute. “Not to mention the pay and a chance to play with modern tech.”
“True,” the doctor said with a nod. “So why are you here and not there?” she asked. She looked up to his bleak look. “Sorry,” she said stuffing her hands in her hip pockets.
He frowned. “Not your fault doc. I ran afoul of politics. I guess you could say I did too good a job repairing things.” His face worked in painful memory. It had been nearly a year but it was still painful. Talking about it now was like ripping the scab off.
“Oh?” she asked.
“I had to declare myself system governor in order to take command of the people and material in the system before we fought off the pirates. But when the crisis was over I held a constitutional convention and when that passed I turned over control of the system to an elected government.”
“And that was a mistake?” she asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow and flicking her ears.
“In a way,” he sighed, mouth puckering in a sour grimace. “I underestimated how short minded and corrupt some of the politicians were. They decided I was an obstacle and engineered my exile.”
“Doesn't sound right.”
“Why would you leave?” the nearby nurse asked. The orderly shook out the bed sheet startling her.
“I was given a choice. Leave or watch twenty thousand people die. I'm an honorable man. I had planned on leaving to set up additional bases but well...” he shrugged. Her eyes were wide and sad at that news.
“They hurried you along. Run out of town by the sheriff,” someone in the corner said with a sniff. “We've experienced that a few times, Barney was chased off planet by a mob twice.”
The battered looking Barney rounded on his partner with a glower. “Once,” he growled holding up a thick index finger. “The second time doesn't count. It was just a pissed prostitute... I um...” He looked at the kid guiltily and then cleared his throat. “Um, lady friend who wasn't happy about my leaving.”
“Sure she was,” the nurse said with a look of amusement. The man spread his large battered hands helplessly.
“I'm betting they will regret your leaving,” Barney said, trying to change the subject.
“Oh you could s
ay that,” Irons said. “First we've found that the pirate threat is bigger than anyone dreamed.” He'd suspected it but hadn't had the chance to dig any deeper into the Horathian angle.
“Oh?” Others paused what they were doing to turn to look at him.
He nodded. “It seems that for the past several centuries the Horathian Empire has been behind the piracy in this sector. They have been raiding planets and systems to rebuild their own system.”
“Horath,” a nurse with yellow and blue striped skin said with a growl. “Hate those bastards.”
“Yeah, I'm pretty sure that you do. They've been using their ill gotten gains to spread a Xeno-paranoia. It's helped them build up quite a fleet of freighters and warships. A fleet they are using to raid star systems now. The warships do the dirty work and then the freighters come in to strip the carcass then the entire mob moved on. We tore one apart in Pyrax but we know there are a half a dozen more fleets out there. Each is getting bigger with every conquest every day.”
“Oh shit!” the yellow nurse said wide eyed.
“Yeah, running into one of them on the Kiev would ruin everyone's day,” Irons replied.
“But they can't do much without the keys right?” A tech said turning from where she had been working on a piece of equipment.
“Yes and no. If something doesn't work they can use something they've stolen and patch it in its place. It may or may not work, but it's something.”
More than one person winced at that statement. They had their own experience with that method of getting by. Suddenly there was air of guilt hovering around them. Irons wasn't sure where to go about that.
“You said first reason. Is there a second?” Numiria finally asked. She waved him over to an exam table again. He sat. She checked him over.
“Yes,” he said and then smiled a bit. He wasn't comfortable admitting this but maybe in getting it out there more things would maybe go easier on him in the future. It wasn't like they hadn't known he had keys after all. “Me,” he said tapping his chest. “I'm the key to unlocking things as all of you know by now.” The group nodded. “As far as I know I'm the only person who can. When I left the system they can't replicate the locked stuff anymore.”
He hadn't been comfortable admitting that for some time. He still wasn't for that matter, but letting people know he had the keys helped some. It also drew a great big target on his back though.
He'd also come forward with Sprite and his other AI, not with a lot of reservations and discussions on Anvil. It was over with now; they were out into the open so to speak. They did deserve some sort of life, not one living in the shadows.
“Oh shit,” Barney said amused. “Bet they are regretting chasing you out right about now,” he said shaking his head.
“Probably,” Irons said with a satisfied smile. It wasn't a particularly nice smile either. “I'm hoping to find another system like Pyrax to set up shop and start over.”
“Good luck with that,” Barney said shaking his head. The doctor nodded.
“You're good to go,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Disgustingly healthy to an amazing degree despite being a decrepit old fart.”
“Thanks doc,” Irons said with a chuckle as he got off the exam table. “I'll see if I can get more tech your way when we get the time and energy.”
“No rush right now,” she said turning. “Scrapes and bruises mostly. Try to keep the idiots from electrocuting themselves. Burns...” She wrinkled her nose.
“I can't be everywhere at once. Do my best though doc,” he said with a helpless shrug.
“You do that. Scat.” She waved her hand again. Irons chuckled and left with a backwards wave to Barney and the others. Barney waved a side to side bye hand gesture then winced at the nurse tending to him.
“So what did we get?” Irons asked quietly as he walked his way back to the boat bay.
Sprite's head appeared on his HUD. She pursed her lips and appeared to be reading. “Not what you were hoping for at any rate admiral. None of the sleepers are Federation military,” Sprite reported.
Irons nodded. Of course. That would be too much to hope for. “Go on,” he encouraged.
“Try this. The closest to being from our time period are two that are ex military. Both unfortunately are very old, over four hundred years old and one had been exposed to a lethal dosage of radiation. I am fairly certain there is no way to save him even with a modern hospital. One was a former noncom in the army; the other was supposedly an officer in the army reserves. A captain.”
“Okay...”
“There are two hundred and six others from our time; all of them have advanced age or significant injuries. One of the sleepers was never awoken from the pod when it was picked up due to extensive aging and injuries.”
“Oh.”
“Apparently they were on a senior's cruise. One of those tawdry casino cruise ships designed to get seniors to part with their credits.”
“Ouch,” Irons said with a wince.
“Yes.”
“So they haven't had much experience in this time at all.”
“No admiral.”
He put that winsome thought aside. The Warners were a bonus. A treasure he intended to savor even if it was just for their friendship and occasional help. Sprite scrolled the demographics across his HUD. Broken down by species half were Terran of one sort or another. A third were Veraxin since Veraxins were the second most common species in the explored galaxy. The rest were a sprinkling of other species, most were the common ones. None unfortunately were Ssislli or Melekian. None in fact were from a species now considered extinct. Darn. “Any more intel on our ex military? Like why they weren't recalled?”
“Admiral! They are ancient! One was less than honorably discharged!” Sprite sounded appalled. She wasn't sure what he had in mind.
Irons pursed his lips digesting that. “Still doesn't matter. The Xeno war was a fight for existence. Every sod whoever put a uniform on was recalled.” He'd read the memo. So had she.
“I'm not sure why. Since they didn't have army records uploaded to the ship's net and I couldn't access the sleeper's implants we can't know for certain of anything. Perhaps in time their injuries and advanced age can be treated so we can wake them and ask them?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” he agreed noncommittally. “In time.”
“The other seven hundred and forty are from various time periods over the past seven centuries. All but one was placed into stasis for medical reasons.”
“Great.”
“Most were apparently born after the Xeno war and have no implants to access.”
“Got that,” Irons said with a nod, dodging a tech with a cart of raw material. It looked like the tech was heading to the shuttle bay. His replicators were getting one hell of a work out.
“In short just about everyone in stasis is sick, elderly, or terminally ill. Or all of the above,” Sprite concluded.
“Injured?”
“A few. Not as many as I thought. A few kids with terminal diseases, but not many of them. Apparently no one has been put in stasis for several decades due to the problems with the reactor.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah oh. So if anyone is hurt they either get patched up or die.”
“Ouch.” He frowned for a moment. “You said one wasn’t.”
“Correct. She was placed in stasis due to crimes. She likes to cause trouble and apparently was the daughter of a captain. She had skills considered critical enough to keep her alive and around.”
“So they didn't put her off?” he asked, curious about that. After all if she was in stasis it wasn't like her skills could be used after all.
“Apparently they didn't want to foster their problems onto someone else. Or the captain of the time didn't want to part with her daughter.”
“Okay.”
“Should we wake her?”
“If she's a problem child then I don't see a reason to let her out. Besides, it's not our decision anyway.”
Sprite sniffed. “True.”
“Admiral do you ever sleep?” Martha asked. She'd replaced a tired Fara. The teen had been grateful for the relief and had stumbled off to her bed a little while ago. Apparently this had been her second shift and she was flat out exhausted.
“Come to think of it...” Irons stretched. “Yeah. I can jack in and let Sprite and Proteus do their thing while unlocking a few of the bits that take a bit longer to replicate.”
“Okay...” She looked around. He smiled. “I'll be in the cockpit.”
“I'll make sure no one disturbs you,” Martha said with a nod.
“Okay. Help yourself to the food if you need it,” Irons said with a wave as he moved to the cockpit. He closed the hatch door behind him and then settled into the pilot's chair.
“Are you really going to sleep here?” Sprite asked amused.
“It's safe and relatively secure right?” he asked, running a quick check to make sure no one had touched anything. Everything was as it should be. Good.
“I would think you'd prefer to be more or less horizontal,” Sprite observed.
“I can sleep like this,” Irons said, snuggling down until he got comfortable. After all, he was military. A soldier or sailor learned to rest or sleep whenever and wherever possible. He rested his right arm and felt it move. He cracked an eyelid and smiled a little as a jack opened and a cable extended to a universal port. Several other cables went with it.
“Might as well get as much bandwidth as we can get,” Sprite said in explanation.
“Don't hog it all,” he yawned. He really didn't need to referee any disputes between the AI. He could feel his body relaxing. Good.
Irons managed to get four hours of sleep. While he slept the Kiev maneuvered to correct her course. Fortunately the course changes were far enough out and the inertial dampeners were tuned enough so they didn't wake him.
The main engines came online just as he woke. The rumble and vibration were immediately recognizable to an old hand despite being in a shuttle in the ship. “Report?” he ordered sleepily. He moved but his right arm was pinned down. He looked down at it. It's still jacked in. Sprite must have locked it down to keep him from jerking the cables out as he slept.
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 12
