“Can you restart the core?” The woman asked hopefully.
“The fusion core? On which reactor or all of them do you mean? Antimatter will take too much effort. I bet you are out of antimatter anyway,” he said eying the Berkhearts and then the others. The cybers and AI reluctantly nodded. “I can probably get a fusion reactor up and running in as little as a week. Possibly sooner if I have adequate support. Fuel is another issue though.”
“Impossible,” the mandarin said again.
Irons gave him a cool look. “I'm pretty good at doing what others think is impossible. That's also a creed of the engineer. Doing the impossible. Miracle workers.”
“Admiral, will you help us?” A whispery voice asked. The other bodies had faded out until their eyes just showed once more. It was a little creepy.
Irons thought about it for a brief second. The answer was simple. The question was how they would respond. “It's a quid pro quo situation. The question is will you help me and help yourselves or get in my way?” he asked.
The eyes looked at one another. “We can end this here and now if we wanted to do so,” the mandarin said. “This station is ours, not a military installation. Leave.” He made a brushing motion and then stroked his beard. Irons was pretty sure the old man was all bluster. But apparently his words still carried a great deal of weight with the others. He was some sort of leader.
“Are you as insane as the others?” The Berkhearts demanded angrily. “What is wrong with you? He's a fleet admiral. An engineering admiral.”
“Exactly. With his help comes strings.”
“Of course. I did say quid pro quo,” Irons said. He was laying that out right here and now. He wanted them to go in eyes open. “Of course there could be salvage rights but you are here so that's debatable. Or I could nationalize the station. I'd prefer to work with you though.”
The Chinese man's eyebrow lifted slightly as he looked at the others. “See? He admits it.”
Irons huffed for a second. “With any effort comes cost. Comes payment for services rendered. Even humanitarian efforts like this one would be,” he waved to indicate the station.
“And what is the cost that you wish us to bear?”
“A burden too much for old souls to bear I believe,” the mandarin said coldly, straightening as he stared at Irons.
Irons looked away, eyes off on the horizon. “To rebuild this station, the system, and the Federation? Yes. On your own you can't do it. Be a beacon of hope for civilization so it may finally come out of the dark ages into the light? Possibly. Build the infrastructure needed to restart the navy? Quite possibly, but you wouldn't be alone in that,” his voice had started quietly but had built slowly.
Irons turned. Where there had been four there were now two dozen or so. He nodded. “But you are not alone. There are people here on this station. People who wallow in the dark because they have not been educated, because they have not been shown the light. They are ignorant, ignorant of their own potential. There are people on Kiev who are willing to help. Who want to come here to help rebuild this station. Who are interested in making it a home.” He gestured to the outside and then turned.
“There are people all over this war torn galaxy willing to learn. To grow. To rebuild what once was. To stand up for what is right and to protect this and what others are trying to do from those that would tear it down.”
“I've met people like that. Commander Logan is doing his best in Pyrax right now. I left him in charge of the navy there. He has thousands of people, hundreds of engineers and a growing college to train people.”
“It sounds like you don't need us then,” a voice in the back said quietly.
Irons focused on the voice for a moment. There was uncertainty in the voice of course. A hint of depression and of tired exhaustion. But there was a thread of hope there too. He had to build on it. “We always need wisdom. Our place as elders isn't to sit back and watch, it's to educate the next generation and lead our society until it is our time to step aside and let them take up the reins. Even then it is our job to keep an eye on them and help guide them as they learn for themselves how life works.”
There were unseen nodded in the audience. Irons nodded back. “I've rebuilt star systems. I've gone into an empty system and left an entire shipyard and growing orbital industry. I've helped terraform planets and I've had a hand in the Stargate program and building a Dyson sphere. What has been done can be done again. With your help,” he said looking at each of them in turn. “I know you are old and tired. I know you feel like giving up. But for some reason you still cling to life. Despite everything that has happened on this station here you are.”
“Yes, we are here. We few. Like rocks worn with age. Death is but a feather, Duty is as heavy as a mountain,” the mandarin said.
The admiral shot him an amused look before returning his attention to the group. “Yes. You few. This station can support a hundred thousand or more correct?” Irons asked. They made affirmative sounds.
“Kiev has over four or five thousand excess people on it. Before we arrived in the system they had talked about building another ship or station. Here you are,” he indicated the station and looked around briefly.
“What can they do?”
“Anything they put their minds to if they are willing and make the effort,” Irons replied. “I've spent months training them. They had a rudimentary educational system in place. I just built off of that.”
“But they don't have the keys! No one does!” a voice said, sounding despairing.
“There are ways around them,” another said. “We've discussed it before.” One set of eyes turned on another. “We just need power.”
“And then there is me,” Irons said. They turned back to him. “I am a Federation officer, a fleet admiral. An engineering fleet admiral. I have the keys.” He tapped at his helmet. “I am the Rosetta stone. I can make virtually anything with a replicator.”
The group stared at him and then began to murmur amongst themselves. Irons watched, listening, hands on his hips. From the sound of the chatter they were both stunned and excited, but there was an undercurrent of disbelief and skepticism as well. Also something he wasn't quite happy with, growing sense of superiority over him. Finally they muted themselves to talk privately. They faded out until only the first four remained.
“We will do this,” the Berkheart's said nodding after a few minutes. There was a new sparkle in their eyes, the hint of hope and challenge of a new day. Irons nodded. He looked at the Chinese couple.
“We do not oppose this. We are pacifists though admiral. We do not like building weapons of war,” Yan Fu said.
“Then I won’t ask you to do so unless it is to defend this station and system. If possible you can make the tools that will in turn make ships and weapons correct? Do you have any philosophical opposition to that?” Irons asked.
They looked at each other. Finally the mandarin shrugged. “No,” he said with a bow. “What others do with the tools is not a problem.”
“Remember,” Irons rumbled. “A weapon is a tool. In the right hands it can do great good or evil. It is not itself inherently evil.”
“You speak of nanites,” the mandarin said.
“I speak of any weapon system since man first picked up a rock and a stick. It is how you use it that matters, not... never mind. We can debate philosophy later. Right now we have work to do. I need to get into administration and start working out a plan.”
“We have a limited plan. And a few functional robots,” Sid said as the hatches opened in front of him. Lights flickered and came on here and there in the corridor before him.
“Then let’s get started.”
ñChapter 17
“What the hell has been going on over there?” the captain demanded, pacing the deck like a caged animal. He looked at the communications tech who hunched her shoulders. The angry glare turned on Warner who shrugged.
“No idea skipper. I guess we'll find out when he's re
ady to talk. Or when He wasn't buried deep in the hull.”
“You mean he may not be able to punch a signal through the hull?” Captain Chambers demanded.
“It's a possibility,” Warner mused, rubbing his chin. He'd started to grow a goatee. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It was damn itchy. “He'd have just his suit com and whatever his implants provide. He'll need a hell of a lot of power to punch a signal through all that metal when he gets closer to the core of the station.”
“Why the core?” Hir'ruk asked.
“I think he's heading to admin. That's what I'd do if I were in his boots anyway. From there he'll take control.”
“Can he?” The Veraxin asked, signaling uncertainty. “Is it possible?”
Warner's lips twitched in a sour smile. “He's a Federation Fleet admiral. I think we'll find just about anything is possible for him. He's got the replicator keys after all. There is no telling what other keys he's got buried in his implants.” Warner looked at the captain who sat in his chair with a huff.
“On the good side we've got some repairs done while we're waiting. All the emitter pods that were ready have been installed and tested. We're configuring them now. It's slow though. The work crews have pulled the other emitter pods and they are piling them up in the boat bay. I understand the chief has a work crew scavenging them now.”
“Why bother?” Hir'ruk asked.
“Well, if she can get one or two more pairs up then she can mount them on the hull. I understand both boats are out on the hull patching the leaks and rebuilding some of our skin now,” Warner reported.
“Really?” the captain asked. He hadn't really paid close attention to the repairs; his entire attention had been focused on the drama on the station.
Warner smiled again. “It's slow, but we're getting there. I think that industrial replicator the admiral traded to us is getting a work out.”
The captain nodded. “Good.”
“It's hard because they have to pull the piece and bring it in to rework. That's slowing progress to a crawl sometimes.”
“Tough. We can't strip the ship bare of stores. We've got to have something to purchase fuel with,” the captain growled.
“True,” Warner said with a sigh. “I just wish we had more. The more I think about it the more I like the idea of getting an asteroid. Or two. Or even a snow ball.”
“Really?” The captain asked, turning to him with an uplifted eyebrow. “A snowball?”
“Sure,” Warner said sitting back and picking up his coffee from his cup holder. “If we find a good one we can process it and we won't need to buy fuel and lift it out of the gravity well. I talked with my parents too. They suggested a fuel station at one of the gas giants too.”
“That's a little out of our league,” Hir'ruk said.
The XO shook his head. “You'd be surprised. Most of the engineering isn't all that difficult. Sure the power supply is an issue, but we can find a way around that if we have to. Use a hydrogen fuel cell or something,” Warner replied. “Unmanned we could have it making fuel while we're gone. Suck it dry when we're back. Then service it and set it up for the next run.”
“And it would be helium 3 and deuterium,” Esmay said, turning to view the other officers. “Right?”
“Definitely,” Warner said with a smile. “Which means more power for our reactor and far less energy waste. Also less wear and tear on the systems.”
“I'll think about it,” the captain rumbled, clearly off balance by the new concept. “Do you have a proposal?”
“No, but I can write one up while we're waiting,” Warner said with a smile.
The captain nodded. “Do that. I might as well read it while we're just sitting here,” the captain sighed. “I hate waiting,” he said darkly.
The Berkhearts turned to the Fu's as they floated through the virtual chamber to their spartan inner room. The Fu's preferred a Japanese minimalist architecture and interior design. Sometimes Sid wondered about them, it took all kinds to survive. He knew they were old, they had been in the system before he and his wife had joined. He'd thought that they would have committed seppuku or something, or that their bodies would have failed. Apparently not. Sometimes he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
Yan Fu was a character, now dressed in his more familiar white and black robes with his snow white hair and beard. He looked like an Asian master or an oriental wizard. Sometimes the others muttered about the robes.
His wife tucked her hand in his as the others joined them. Resources in the mainframe were scarce. They constantly bickered over the precious memory and processing cycles now. Maybe Irons would be able to do something about that soon.
“Do we trust him?” Averies said, coming to the point.
Yan Fu sat down in an elegant wave and picked up a tea cup. He took a sip and then set the cup down. “Do we have a choice?” he asked after a moment.
“There are always choices. You've said that over and over,” Doctor Myers said, shaking his virtual head. “We can cooperate with him or not. The paths are unclear on what would happen for each.” Myers was one of their few remaining scientists. In fact he was the only scientist; Doctor Trask was an MD and medical administrator not a metallurgist.
“Hopefully something good. We are slipping down the last slope to oblivion,” Sid said. He noted the others nodded proved that the others were very much aware of the problem. Good he thought.
“He holds the high ground. He can force compliance,” the mandarin said after a long moment. “We have no choice but to bend to his will. Like the reed in the wind.”
“More like adapt to new circumstances,” Sid retorted, eyes narrowing. “And who said he's forcing us? We can just sit it out, watch and do nothing. Or we can get off our dead asses and help for a change. Pick ourselves up and move on. We made mistakes. We made a damn big one by hiding. We all know that. Now it's our turn to atone for our actions.”
“There is no shame in hiding,” the mandarin murmured.
Sid scowled. “No? Even when the Xeno's are long gone?”
“Do we even know they are gone?” Myers asked.
“No idea,” Sid said with a shrug. “But I'm for one tired of sitting and waiting for something else to fail. We have a duty. To this station and to the future. It's time we lived up to that.”
“Death is as light as a feather. Duty is as heavy as a mountain,” Mrs. Fu murmured, looking at her husband.
“Thank you,” he said bowing slightly. Most of the others knew that she unlike him was of Japanese descent. She'd actually come from the home islands on long lost Earth. Although he put on airs Yan Fu was a descendant of California Chinese who had intermingled blood lines with other Asian groups over the centuries before leaving Earth to colonize the stars.
“What can we do to help?” Myers finally asked.
“We can't round up or even contact the ferals,” Averies said with a sniff. “They run away from us.” Which was true. Of course it didn't help that they had no control of any of the robots on the station right now. Draco had complete control of the robots. It had been Draco who had been sending the bots after the admiral.
“And whose fault is that? Our psycho colleagues, that's who,” Emily growled. “We should have done something about them a long time ago. They've spent ages tormenting the poor souls left here with us. Now that's set in over the generations and we can't even talk to them! Had we done something to set the record straight maybe we wouldn't be in this situation now!”
She was referring to the wretched cybers who had gone insane early when the station first went dark. They capered about the station's net, normally pulling pranks but preferring to do minimum harm to keep on Draco's good side. For some reason Draco protected and sheltered them.
The other sane cybers were glad when the insane ones turned their attentions on the unfortunate souls trapped in the bowls of the station. That meant they weren't capering and causing havoc in the mainframe. There were fewer and fewer people i
n the station every year though. The insane cybers haunted them like poltergeists, chasing them into deathtraps.
“We all know the history,” Fu said, tucking his hand into his sleeves. “We all knew the damage the Xeno attack had inflicted. We were down to one reactor. We had no choice but to hide.”
“But we could have said something when they left!” Sid said waving a hand.
“As I understand it you did,” Fu said giving the other man a cold look. “Despite the vote of the council,” he said, having to put that little dig in. Sid had been censured by the others for his actions. It had been intensely frustrating.
“Didn't do us any good now did it?” Sid asked sarcastically. “And as I recall my message didn't quite get out there. It was garbled by your friend. The same so called friend who then cut the communications out of the loop and then went nuts on us all, walling himself off in the net after the others went insane.”
True,” Averies said with a sigh. “But we're not here to rehash old memories. We're here to discuss the future. Our future.”
“We need more memory. Too many of us are slipping into catatonia or the virtual dreams,” Emily murmured. She like all of them knew the temptation. To slip into the dream, that the virtual world was much more fascinating and easier to deal with and live in than the hell of the station. They had lost quite a few friends over the years to it. Three centuries ago Fu had enacted a protocol with the council's vote to cut off life support to those who entered dream for more than a year and refused to come out of it. They had shortened that period to a month of steady dream when computer memory and resources became a precious commodity.
It was heartbreaking, watching one of the law AI cut off the life support to a friend. Of course they shut them down before hand, lulled them into sleep before cutting off their lower brain functions and then rerouting precious power and resources from their pods to something else.
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 42
