Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (17 page)

“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 say 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.