Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Maneuvering. Main engines are back online. That's the kick you just felt.”

  “Feels like the inertial dampeners are out of synch,” he observed dryly. He smacked his lips and stretched and then scratched. He needed coffee.

  “Probably. The ship is old Admiral,” Sprite replied absently. It sounded like she was busy.

  “I wasn't talking about theirs. I was talking about the shuttle,” he said stretching and working some of the kinks out.

  “Shuttle inertials are offline admiral. Do you want me to bring them up?” Sprite asked.

  “Never mind. Coffee,” he said scratching his back and starting to get up. He felt the cables unjack and retract.

  “Never get in between a navy man and his cup of joe,” Sprite quipped. Irons snorted as he made his way aft to the food replicator.

  “Damn skippy,” he growled.

  Orbit of Triang was reached sixteen hours later. The bridge crew worked on trade over the communications link. When the admiral heard about that little tidbit he was amused. He had given Triang the radio system for situations like this. It was good that they were putting it to use so soon. Irons had turned his attention on the sensors a few hours ago. He was on the bridge, on his back tearing into the underside of the sensor console with a tech handing him parts as they exchanged greetings with the planet.

  The techs manning communications were surprised by the clear signal. “Must be a good day down there,” the comm. tech stated.

  “No, I upgraded their systems when I was downside,” Irons replied absently, not bothering to pull himself out to talk with them face to face.

  “Oh.”

  “Admiral, I um... that is...” the tech sounded nervous. Irons slowed his work for a moment. He peeked out from under the console.

  “Yes?”

  “I'm well, I'm the cargo master.” Irons studied the Telerite. It was unusual to see one in such a bright room without another of its species near. They were pretty codependent. Also normally nocturnal.

  Irons chattered out an ultrasonic greeting with his implants. The Telerite stepped back uncertainly then started to chatter its teeth in surprised amusement. Irons noted it was wearing some sort of wraparound sunglasses. That explained how it could tolerate the light level. After a moment the Telerite reached down and shut off its old vocoder and then started chattering at him fast in its native language.

  Irons hid a snort as the mole like alien went on and on faster than even he could keep up with. No doubt Sprite was following along. He was pretty sure this character was alone for a reason now; he had diarrhea mouth and didn't come with a stop command. The vocoder probably forced the alien to channel his or her chatter into something the machine could keep up with.

  “Easy,” he said holding up a hand. Text was scrolling across his HUD as Sprite translated it. He couldn't keep up with half of it. A lot of it was the being's life story. The human and Veraxin crew around them were looking confused. Irons shrugged it off as he got to his feet. “Okay let's start with something simple. Blur right?” he asked the alien in its native language.

  Telerites were marsupials. Terrans thought of them as bipedal moles. They had pouches on both thighs, their abdomen and their lower back. This one was a small version of the species, about a meter tall. Young obviously. They could range up to three meters tall and two wide under the right conditions.

  Blur wiggled excitedly. “Oh sorry, sorry, it's just I haven't talked with someone in a while and I get kind of excited. I'd love to talk with you for a while but I'm kind of busy. I'm sorry to say this but we need your shuttle. Now we can offload your things and...”

  “Hang on a sec,” Irons said interrupting the stream. The Telerite blinked at him in confusion. “Just a moment there. I thought we settled this. My shuttle is military issue. I am not going to part with it.”

  “Oh no, no sir. We're just going to borrow it for a week to transfer materials to the ground and back. We need the extra space you see since we're behind schedule. That crisis... Thank you by the way for fixing the ship! That crisis messed up all our schedules. Oh Whoa, it is such a pain!”

  The admiral rubbed his temple. At this rate he was going to get a headache for sure. “Okay. Look. I'll see if we can get another of your shuttles out. Will that help? My launch isn't negotiable.”

  Blur pause and then dry washed his hand paws. “But we need the shuttle. We only have so much material to transfer of course, you've been using some of the cargo to repair the ship and we need to get this down fast. The contract for the magnesium specifies...”

  The admiral held up a restraining hand. “Hang on a minute. I'll get the other shuttle up for you. It's what a cargo shuttle right? My shuttle isn't built to haul large cargo transfers.”

  “Um, we can do that but I need authorization to proceed. I'd like to you understand it's just that...”

  “I get it. We'll get authorization. Start with Barry he knows who to talk to. Get me a parts list and the materials and we'll get on it.”

  “But I can't spare the raw materials! You've taken so much and we need it to trade or we'll be out of food soon and we can't have that! We also need fuel because we're low on fuel and that's not good. We really need the fuel and can't afford a delay...”

  “Just settle down.” Irons still wasn't sure about the gender of the Telerite. They were hermaphrodites that could choose the gender they preferred depending on their environment. They had a shaggy pelt due to the climate they had originally evolved in. Normally they had a brown or black pelt. This one had a white pelt with black leopard spots on its back and flanks. It's rear spines jutted out from the fur along it's spine. They flexed as it breathed.

  It had two meaty hands with a pair of long thick digging claws embedded on the back of the four fingered hands. The claws were hollow Irons knew. Each had a venom sack in the hand that the alien could use in its defense if anything was foolish enough to attack it.

  “Look, see if Barry is on duty. If he is and if you can get permission get him to take the broken bits out of the shuttle and we'll use my replicator to use them as the substrate to remake them. If that's okay with you right?”

  “Oh yes that's better. It sounds good I'm just not sure. You know it's so hard dealing with the vocoder. You seem like a nice fellow. A very nice Terran. I like talking with you. You can speak my native language though I detect a metallic tone in your voice. Is there something wrong?”

  “It's my implants,” Irons replied amused. “Terrans can't speak at these ranges,” he replied. He was glad the implants were shouldering the brunt of the work. If his voice box had tried to handle the ultrasonic frequencies it would have locked up on him for sure.

  “Okay. I'll see if we can get the permission from the captain. Oh I hate to bother him though! He's such a grump sometimes. Really he is. I could tell you stories that would turn your ears inside out. The Terran is quite vicious with his odor. Not like you and I don't mean to complain. It's just some Terrans stink if you know what I mean? I mean you can't help it and all; it's just your nature. I wish, I so wish, we could talk more but I really need to get going. I need to get this done right away so we can get the shuttle working. Oh I'd love to have the other shuttle running again! It's a larger shuttle and we could really use it but it had so many problems that it was unfortunately parked. Can you really fix it? Of course you can you can do anything. Really. So amazing for a Terran to do so much in such a limited time!”

  “Okay,” Irons said trying hard not to shake his head. The ultrasonic’s were starting to become painful. He was glad none of the canines were here, they would have been howling by now. “Get on it. I'll check with Barry as soon as this is done. In fact I'll have my AI handle it now.”

  “Okay thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Telerite bounced and then rushed off at a waddle. Irons snorted as the crew got out of its way and practically urged it on. When the alien had left he sighed in relief. He wasn't the only one in the compartment to do so.

&
nbsp; “He's a talker. Blur,” a Veraxin said with a head bob. A Terran nodded.

  “It's a he?” Irons asked.

  “Sorry. Not sure really. I don't want to hear the answer if I ever asked,” the Veraxin replied. There was a chuckle of amusement from the others. Several people nodded as they returned their attention to their work.

  “Now I know why he's cargo master. Could you imagine him running on with trade negotiations? They'd give him anything he wanted just to get him to shut up,” Sprite said to Irons. Irons snorted as he returned his attention to the console.

  “Okay, where were we. Oh, yes, I was almost done here. We're just putting a pretty band aid on this for now. To really fix this we need to go out on the hull and rewire or replace the antenna.”

  “We know admiral,” the Veraxin said. “The primary communications array was sheared off in a meteor storm centuries ago. The secondary is patched. I believe one antenna is warped.”

  “Probably. The software situation is sorted out. I've replaced the processors but the memory has errors. I'll swap that out and then we can track down the other bugs.”

  “Thank you admiral,” the Veraxin said.

  “No problem.”

  “Admiral a moment of your time?” Doctor Numiria called him. He's amused that Sprite had opened the video channel on the newly replaced LCD in front of him. He was just wrapping up the job here and was about ready to move on. This was a final test to make sure everything worked. Obviously it did.

  “Is this about the missing genetics in my blood doc?” he asked, pretty sure of her answer.

  She blinked at his image. “Yes. I take it you are aware of it. I've never seen anything like that. If you hadn't been sitting in front of me I would have sworn you were a construct.”

  “Nope.”

  “No I know. You don't smell like one. I can smell Terran human.” Irons didn't tell her that a good artificial construct could replicate the smells of a human. The Xeno's had used them but they preferred to use clone constructs.

  “It's a security precaution mandated by the Federation Doctor. Black letter Federation law.”

  She frowned. He sighed. “Doc look. My genetics in the wrong hands could lead to bad things. Things like clones or genetic targeting or other even nastier things that would keep you up at night,” he explained.

  She shrugged it off. “Well, other than that you are fine. Obviously I can't check for timed genetic disorders in your blood. I'm assuming that's been done though,” she said. He nodded. “Okay then. You've got a clean bill of health. But you already knew that of course.”

  “Nice to get an outside opinion every now and again doc.”

  “Signing off,” she said, reaching forward and cutting the link. Irons nodded.

  “Good. And now the crew knows you're not a leper,” Sprite said to him as he wiped off the plastic bezel around the screen and then wiped at the scared chrome trim.

  When he finished he looked up to see Barry coming in. Barry looked left and right. Irons smiled. “Looking for me?” he asked innocently. Barry scowled and then nodded.

  “You sicked Blur on me? How low!” Barry said. Irons wasn't sure if he was mocking that little joke or if he was seriously annoyed by it.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I need your permission to rebuild one of your cargo shuttles.”

  “I'll remember that,” Barry said as he shook his head. “Wait, rebuild...” He looked thoughtful as he thought that through. Apparently Blur had been his usual vocal self and hadn't gotten much of his intended message across to its recipient.

  “Yes. It seems the Telerite wanted to borrow my shuttle. I suggested an alternative,” Irons replied. He nodded to the crew around him. “I'll be in the shuttle bay if anyone needs me,” he said.

  “Thanks Admiral,” a tech said. The Veraxin gave him a thumbs up with its lower right hand. Irons nodded as he motioned to Barry to lead the way.

  After a couple of hours of work they got the shuttle Barry had picked out up to marginally running status. “At least it can tell us what's wrong with it now,” Irons said, taking the brighter side of things.

  “Yeah,” Barry said in disgust. “A whole hell of a lot.”

  “Well, that's because you've been scavenging it. We'll get it sorted out. I've got the parts I can order from here on the burner. How's the Scarab holding up?”

  “Well,” Barry said, yanking out a snapped fuel line. “Better than I expected,” he grunted as he reached in and disengaged the coupler holding the end in.

  “A little TLC and some parts and this bird will be back in the air.”

  “Yeah, until you leave. Are you leaving?” he asked. Barry didn't sound like he wanted Irons to leave anytime soon. Irons couldn't blame the man. They were getting a lot done. His presence and his replicators were a catalyst for major changes in the ship.

  “Not sure,” Irons replied shrugging the question off. “I've considered it.”

  “Apparently you're not the only one admiral,” Sprite informed him.

  “Oh?”

  “Apparently there is a petition to keep you aboard. Half the crew have signed it already. The meetings I've been able to eavesdrop in.... Let's just say the Captain is dubious about the idea.”

  “I still don't understand his problem. I mean, he's the one who wronged me remember?”

  “Who you talking to?” Barry asked.

  “Sprite. My AI. She's briefing me a little.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sorry,” the admiral replied sheepishly, looking up at the bulkhead and blowing his cheeks out as he thought about the situation.

  “No no, it's okay. I'll uh, just get these off and go see what's ready for pick up. Save the kid a trip,” Barry said. The kid in question was sitting in the cockpit pretending to fly it. Irons looked at the windshield and snorted. He could read the kids lips, he was pretending to be a fighter pilot shooting down Xenos. Sound effects were sputtering by his young Veraxin co-pilot.

  Irons watched Barry leave. He was under the shuttle. He'd taken the cover plates off to repair the avionics. He let Proteus handle the repairs as he listened to Sprite's brief.

  “Okay, the Warners and half of crew are behind you and leading the fight of course. I believe the captain's family had it out, but I'm only guessing, I don't have it on record. So far the Captain has backed down but is still resentful.”

  “I'll try to stay out of his way then. Antigua is still our best bet. I'm not sure when we'll see another ship here. I'm not thrilled about being stuck ground side waiting.”

  “He feels threatened,” Sprite said.

  “I don't know why. Roles and all are reversed. He's the man in power.”

  “It's not like you'd take over his ship or anything. It's a piece of crap,” Sprite said in disgust. “I believe though that might be the problem. That and you thwarted him.”

  “It's old Sprite. Not everything that is old is worthless.”

  “Oh?” she asked dubiously.

  “Take us for example.”

  “Touché'” she said amused. He pulled out a card and looked it over. It was pretty scorched. From the look of it the carbon carbon tiles had been breached. Most of this bay was ruined. He made a note to replicate replacements and then started yanking everything.

  “We'll work on it. Antigua is a better place to spend time on I heard. It's a cross roads for several freighter loops.” He tugged out a clip and then disconnected the wiring harness.

  “Thinking about hooking back up with Io 11 Admiral?” Sprite asked. She wasn't sure about the viability of that option. Or how it would play out.

  Irons hands slowed as he thought. “It's a thought. A long shot, I'd prefer to find a nice base to build from though.”

  “Admiral there is...”

  “Don't go there,” Irons growled, sitting up straight, eyes flashing. He knew she what she was thinking. Hell, he'd thought about it briefly himself. But secrecy was drilled into him as much as her. Something’s were best left a
lone. If. If, a big if. If it even still existed. “Even internally we don't break that.”

  “Even now?”

  “Even now. Not unless we have to. Right now we don't, so we won’t. Besides, to get there we'd need a ship. If it even still exists. Which I doubt.”

  “True.”

  “Now let’s get this bent up bird straightened out so they can go on with their planned transfer and we can get back to business.”

  “Do you think you'll have enough time to overhaul all the critical systems Admiral? They want to leave in a week,” Sprite replied sounding dubious. She put the odds of their leaving on schedule as two to one against. Then again circumstances can change fast. Even she can't account for every variable at work in this situation.

  “We're going to do our best,” he answered, pushing the growing pile out from under the crate as he kept pulling more parts. “We're going to try.”

  ñChapter 6

  Cora arranged for dinner with the Captain and the Warners. The Captain talked with the Warners, feeling them out about admiral Irons and their connection. Taylor had explained, laying out the story. Cora seemed impressed. Toni was busy taking notes with her tablet. Her mother normally laid down the law about that, no electronics at the table. For some reason she was allowing this.

  The captain sat back, stretching a bit. It was ironic, he had always avoided the seniors, they told a lot of good stories but they were usually maudlin about it. Good times. A golden age, things like that. Feelings that the best was behind them and everything was downhill from here usually left him feeling lost and depressed. He'd braced himself for that but they were surprisingly upbeat.

  Taylor grinned throwing the captain further off balance. “He's incredible. Drop him in a star system with a couple of hundred people, some AI, a tug, a fusion reactor and a class two industrial replicator and he'd have the system swarming in a week. A month after that and he'd have a full on shipyard growing. Or at least the beginnings of one. At the end of the year he'd have laid the first ship.”