Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  Unfortunately the medic had run out of saline and plasma treating the other wounded before Art. He would have to make due until they got to the shuttle, that was all there was to it. Irons grimaced when he heard the news. He couldn't do any more, he had to be on the lookout for the predators and besides, nanites had to have something to go off of. His body was being stripped of water as it was. Each time he fired his plasma weapon the nanites had to strip apart water molecules to replace the hydrogen for the next shot. At this rate he was going to be as dehydrated as some of the others. He'd already drained his suit's water supply.

  “Okay, definitely going to be a while before I hand over the keys to one of my shuttles at this rate kid,” Barry called out as he nearly toppled off the pallet.

  “Sorry!” Gus called back. There was a clatter and a loud “Oops!” followed by cussing. Irons sighed as they called a halt.

  He doesn't like it that they were so strung out, but some people like Barry could barely keep up.

  ñChapter 16

  Get the kid and other wounded back to the shuttle to go to the infirmary, that was the plan anyway the admiral thought as they moved. Yvonne held the boy's hand the entire way. She constantly reassured the boy he'll be okay. Irons wasn't so sure. He had lost a lot of blood and taken considerable damage. He'd be lucky if his heart and organs didn't collapse and shut down.

  They reached the dock where Barry had parked his ride without further incident a half hour after the rescue.

  Irons stayed to get back to his shuttle. The captain detailed a crew to stay with him to recover the dead before the aliens managed to find and eat the bodies. Savo wasn't happy but he volunteered to stick with the admiral. Teela did as well. Art wanted to as well but the admiral shook his head no. He needed to stay mobile. A wounded man would slow them down.

  Gus took the copilot seat since Barry's copilot had been killed in the initial attack. On their way to the Kiev the boy passed out again and flat lined. They made a mad headlong dash for the ship, hearing the medic frantically work to save the kid behind them. Yvonne's sobs had Gus biting his lip, tears pricking his eyes.

  “We're coming in hot! Prep for wounded!” Barry snarled into the radio, not bothering to look over his shoulder like Gus was doing. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Engine two was kicking again, just enough to make things interesting for him. He really wished its timing could have been better. But then again it was pretty much par for the course whatever the hell that meant. They had had a louse ass day.

  “Kid you want to help them focus on the shuttle and flying,” he told Gus tightly glancing at Gus when the kid didn't turn back to his job. “That's how we can contribute. Get them there as fast and as safely as we can.”

  “Shuttle two, you're coming in too fast,” Kiev's pri-fly said. “Ease up.”

  “I said we're coming in hot didn't I?” Barry demanded over the radio. “Just clear the bay and be ready to drop the doors. In fact have them moving down before we get in.”

  “Before? Barry are you nuts?” the Veraxin demanded.

  “We'll be fine control. You worry about having the people ready. I'll worry about the timing. Shuttle two out.”

  Gus watched in awe as Barry used the RCS to flip the bird onto its side in a skew turn. He overshot or so Gus thought. Then the main engines burped, just long enough to arrest some of their headlong motion. They slipped under the doors as the RCS burped, kicking them back in at the right angle. The RCS burped back and forth, stabilizing them.

  “Gear down?” Barry asked looking at the kid out of the corner of his eye.

  “Ah...” Gus reached out and flipped the toggles. The light went from red to green. “Down now.” He hit another switch. “And locked.”

  Barry shook the yoke and then nodded. “Good enough. Landing,” he said touching down.

  They landed as close to the hatch as possible. He watched the bay doors close at an agonizingly slow pace. He looked back as they sealed.

  “Doors shut. Atmo coming in,” Control said. “Good landing Boss. Nice.”

  “Wilcox,” Barry said tightly as his eyes turned to look past Gus to the door. “Come on, open already...” he muttered. He looked over his shoulder to the medic Mal doing CPR on the kid and then back to the door. He wasn't sure if they were going to make it. It didn't look good.

  The door finally opened and is swarming with medics before the shuttle hatch finished opening. Doc tried to save Art but he'd bled too much. His heart had collapsed from the loss of blood on the trip over. More blood and fluids had worked their way into his lungs. One look at the readings made her flinch. “I'm sorry Yvonne,” she said looking at the assistant engineer. The boy was flat line, body and brain. Some of the clotted blood and air must have reached his brain and caused multiple embolisms. There was nothing she could do.

  Yvonne collapsed in tears. Barry stroked her back as she cried clutching him. “I'm so sorry. So so sorry,” he said, holding her gently. His own eyes stung. She nodded, burying her face into his shoulder. Somehow during the race back she'd taken her helmet off.

  “So much for quarantine,” Doc muttered looking at them. She shook her lip and then returned to the other wounded. A pair of orderlies moved Art's body off to the side and placed his hands across his chest. They covered the body with a body bag and then turned to other duties.

  The doctor was busy with all the other wounded. She has to focus on the living and let the dead lay for now, not even sparing Art's body a sidelong glance. There will be time for grieving later, she told herself as her hands flashed and moved.

  Ezri tried to comfort Yvonne, rubbing her shoulder. She nodded. “At least I got to say goodbye. That's more than mom and dad could do,” she said wiping her tears. Barry wrapped an arm around her and then flinched as the nurse knelt to tend to his leg.

  “Easy there,” he said looking down. “Damn,” he gasped as she pulled at the ripped suit to get a better look.

  Yvonne woke out of her grief as she felt concern about Barry. She helped the nurse get him to the infirmary on a cargo pallet, following along behind the litters and gurneys the other orderlies and nurses were pushing. She spared a backwards glance to her son's body and then closed her eyes as Barry gripped her hand tighter. She knew her friends had done everything they could to save her son. She had to be at peace with it, had to, she thought.

  Irons and his remaining team recovered the dead. They used the cargo pallet, making it much easier. They were wary of ambushes as they moved but it appeared that the aliens were more afraid of Irons than the rest of them were of the aliens. Irons could see them on his HUD, just out of reach. He looked over his shoulder to see them returning in the shadows as the light from their spot light fades. He was tempted to fire, to kill as many of the bastards as he could but held his fire. He might need it later he reasoned. The raptors paused at their own dead. He's tempted to kill them again but refused. He let them feed on their own dead while they made good on their escape.

  It took an hour, a long agonizing fear fraught hour, but they managed to work their through the maze to get to his shuttle. Inside he sat in the pilot's seat and got ready to undock but Sprite received a weak radio signal. His hands froze when she played it back. “Help us. Please!” The weird whispery voice said over and over.

  “Echo man, ghost,” Savo said looking up and then out through the launch's cockpit windows. “Let's just get the hell out of here man,” he said waving to the outer darkness.

  “Ghost in the machine you mean. I'm getting data with it. Admiral that's current. There is some data here... it boils down to someone knows we are here. It has our dock registry number,” Sprite said.

  “It's a trap. Another one to lure us in. Get us killed,” Savo said firmly. His simian hand gripped the back of the admiral's seat. “Come on man, let's blow this popsicle stand,” he urged as he growled. His fur was perpetually on end, his canines bared. He like a lot of them was on the ragged edge, ready to get back to safety and sanity.
/>   Irons looked over his shoulder. “You don't even know what a popsicle stand is.”

  “So? Still need to get the hell out while the getting's good.”

  “We will,” Irons said coming to a decision. He had a plan now, one he was pretty sure everyone wouldn't like. But one he was going to follow through on. One step at a time though. First it was time to get the others out of danger.

  “We will?” Sprite asked, clearly surprised. “Admiral a signal of distress...”

  “Could indeed be true, or a ruse. Either way we have a duty to perform. But we will be back,” he said, taking the controls as the shuttle powered up.

  “I'm... admiral the lock refuses to unlock. We're tethered,” Sprite said.

  “Use the arm. Push us away,” he ordered.

  “I can't. We're stuck,” she reported. “The docking clamps refuse to budge.”

  “Damn it...”

  “Something's locked the shuttle in place. They are locking us down so we can't leave,” Sprite said.

  “You're sure it's enemy action?” the admiral demanded. He wasn't so sure. The station was old after all, it could be a coincidence.

  “I am now. Something is fighting me in here. More than one,” she said. “I'm being pushed out of the docking interface. They keep trying to breach the shuttle's firewall.”

  “Sever communications. Cut the ODN to the station,” the admiral immediately ordered.

  “Done and done. We are still stuck though,” Sprite said after a second.

  “Not for long,” Irons growled getting out of his seat.

  “What are you going to do?” Sprite asked.

  “Cut us free. The hard way if I have to,” he said.

  “You're not going to pull us free?” Savo asked.

  “If I did that we'd rip the shuttle's airlock apart and half the side of my ship. No, there is another way,” Irons said. He headed for the lock.

  “What?”

  “Cut the damn locks,” Irons said turning as the hatch closed behind him. He raised his right hand and sent a signal converting it to torch.

  When Irons went to the lock he noted people on the other side of the window. He looked, peering through the glass. They were looking back at him. He spotted Terrans, Neos, Veraxin, and other species. They look wild, lord of the flies feral. Some have bladed weapons made out of pieces of metal; others have blades made out of bone or Dilgarth claws.

  They were fierce, eyes wild and predatory. They were dressed in rags and improvised armor. He wasn't about to get mixed up with them just now. He puts his hand to the lock and listened in. They were talking about rushing the shuttle if they can get the lock open. Someone on the other side was tinkering with the lock controls, trying to short the thing. That's it then. Time for plan B he decided.

  He exited out the top hatch and cut the clamps away. It's a fraught filled race, he's aware that they could beat him if he's unlucky. Of course they couldn't get into the shuttle through its lock though. Sprite used the arm to push the shuttle away from the station. He watched the pieces of clamps drift away and the rage in the window of the airlock. But with rage was despair he realized as he paused watching the faces work. Yes, yes indeed he'd be back.

  It is a quiet twenty minute flight time back to Kiev. The living and the dead had little to say to one another. Irons looked over his shoulder to the dead under blankets on floor. He glanced back to the grim faces of exhausted people around them. One of the guys is rocking, another clutched at his rifle as if his life depended on it. He returned his attention to the task at hand. He landed in the ship and watched as they unloaded the dead. One hand rested on the ceiling hatch combing. He wasn't ready to leave. He can feel his anger cool into deadly decision and purpose. The plan he'd been toying with gelled into grim purpose.

  When the last body is unloaded he returned to the ship. Savo spotted him as the hatch closed and the stairs retract. “Admiral what are you doing?” he called out.

  “Finishing it,” Irons growled. He went to the cockpit. He received a surprised clearance and left the ship before anyone could object or think about what he's really doing.

  The bridge crew thought he was going to check on the team out on the hull he realized. Instead he headed back to the station. When the course change registered he received a call asking why. He shut the radio off surprising Sprite. That was entirely unlike the admiral she knew, he was a stickler for safety protocol.

  Sprite sensed his foul mood from his bio readings. She was pretty sure he was thoroughly pissed. His BP was highly elevated and he was showing every sign of a tantrum. The way he was grinding his teeth together wasn't a good sign. Something rare for him. He was long overdue for one though. “So um... what are we doing?” she asked cautiously half way back to the station.

  He growled sub vocally and then his jaw clenched. “What does it look like?” he finally snarled. “We're going to finish this.” His rumble had an echo of thunder of old. In it there was just the hint of mayhem and clashing steel. Yes, definitely a tantrum, Sprite concluded. An epic one from the sound of it.

  She had to try to head it off, it was her duty. He needed a clear head to watch out for whatever he was getting into. “Admiral...”

  “Don't give me any shit Commander. I'm not in the mood,” he snarled. “Take the controls. I'm going to suit up.” He flicked a finger to the auto pilot and rose fast.

  “Aren't you um...”

  He went back and yanked open the locker with the antique armor in it. He'd only had an hour or so to play with it, just long enough to see that it had been stripped a long long time ago. Which was just as well. It was an antique even in his day, over nine centuries ago it might have been something... but now it belonged in a museum. Time to change that.

  “Proteus,” Irons said, pulling the armor out. It didn't have a power source of course, no actuators, no sensors, but he could fix that.

  “Yes Admiral?”

  “Initiate program Ironman mark one,” he said stepping into the boots. The good thing about the armor was that it was designed to go over a space suit or in his case a skin suit. He wasn't sure why an army ranger needed that ability, but now it was good. The armor was about to become appliqué armor.

  “Initializing program. Admiral...”

  “Use the damn nanites. We're going to do this before we get to the station,” Irons ordered, picking up a gauntlet and putting it on.

  The three AI consulted for a microsecond on the best course of action. Finally they agreed and initiated the program.

  What Irons was doing was bonding the armor to his suit and making changes to it through the use of his nanites. He picked up the generator and strapped it on and then plugged into the shuttle. He could feel power from the shuttle flowing into the generator, recharging it.

  “You are going to be crude admiral.”

  He flexed his left gauntlet. “Crude and powerful. Just as long as it does the job,” he agreed grimly.

  “Oh I'd say so. Walking tank compared to the unarmored Dilgarth,” Sprite said dryly. “Overkill.”

  “Their loss,” Irons said with a growl. He kept bolting parts on. “My gain. Besides they have numbers on their side. If they come at me enough it could get interesting. In fact I'm going to look forward to it,” he snarled with a feral smile.

  “So what is the plan?” she asked. “I assume there is one,” she said dryly.

  “We go in to a different docking port as close to central admin as we can; we neutralize any resistance and then secure the admin controls. If anyone gets in my way they become a wet stain,” Irons said coldly as the generator whined.

  “A marine plan,” Sprite replied.

  “Whatever works,” Irons replied firmly as he plugged cables in. “If I had a battle cruiser or a fleet I'd use that. If I had a platoon of marines I'd use them. I don't. You use the tools you've got,” he said working. “KISS.”

  While he was taking Proteus had applied the Ironman one mods to the armor pieces the admiral had at
tached to his suit and integrated them into the suit itself. By pulling material from the armor and suit the AI could wire them together.

  “Admiral, please access the replicator. I need more raw material and additional nanites. Be advised that I will drain the tank of nanites,” Proteus asked.

  “I don't give a shit, so sure,” Irons said, walking over and lifting the lid of the replicator. “Drain the whole damn thing. We'll make more.” He watched a blue stream of nanites go in and then out. They were like ants. To a normal human they wouldn't have been seen at all of course. He could feel the suit coming alive around him. Good.

  He blasted his way into the station. There wasn't any finesse about it, he just found a nice view port as close to the center as he could and rammed the shuttle in. The shuttle's shields shrugged off the debris, letting anything knocked loose to drift off into the black void. He'd briefly considered docking but had thought about it over the last two minutes and decided on this approach. This way no one could fracking play games with him. He was through playing games.

  He climbed out of the shuttle and moved fast as things drifted around him. He blasted through the closed apartment door and kept going.

  When he ran into a significant obstacle he used plasma weapons and or breaching charges to blow a hole and then walked in or through the mess as the atmosphere rushed out into the void. His energy shields shrugged off the shrapnel. This simple and direct strategy isolated him from the Dilgarth and other hostiles while clearing a path and safeguarding his shuttle behind him. But it forced him to create an airlock when he wanted to be in an atmospheric room. There is no point blowing the entire station, he just wanted to keep the fleas and ticks off his back for as long as possible.

  He still ran into resistance, at first from people or Dilgarth he assumed, then from the station itself. Hatches were closing and locking ahead of him. Some of it is because of the hull breach, but most likely he tripped some sort of security system. Something or someone was throwing roadblocks at him now.