Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (46 page)

He
grimaced, knowing it was true. "They had backup generators, but I'm
betting not one had a proper back up buffer. I'm not sure," he sighed,
shaking his head. The class nodded in understanding.

Numiria
didn't need any incentive to lead her class into advanced training. She
realized right away that in some cases she was behind her students, or just
barely in tune with them. She started off by expanding on what she'd picked up
from the computer database. After talking with Sprite about some of the
admiral's adventures she explored the database for things that had been brought
up. Some of the concepts Sprite had brought up in passing had been truly
fascinating. She hosted a couple of open classes and talked with the captain
and the ship's council. She wanted a mandatory first aid course for the serving
crew. The council was amused but didn't see the harm so readily agreed. She set
her nurses up to do it and then returned her own efforts to general education.

She
was surprised by the interest in the classes. Open enrollment meant a lot of
people dropped in. They had thousands of people on the ship and many were bored
with just existing. Many yearned to learn, if only to take the tedium away and
do something with their lives.

The
topics ranged in interest. She didn't really understand the importance of a
lesson plan but she did get a little frustrated when they wandered far off
topic. They talked about evolution and the origin of alien species. Convergence
theory and how it worked. About how the hardest thing is communication between
sapient beings. Terrans had crafted a universal language in math and basic
concepts to bridge most of the gap. For those species that didn't have vocal
systems that were compatible genetic engineering or artificial vocoders were
implemented to bridge the gap. Culture differences, view points, math... it's
hard to factor them all in.

Every
time she's finished a class she had an almost heady feeling afterward. But the
classes were interfering with her sleeper awakening project. She really should
come up with a proper name for the endeavor, she mused.

There
were eighteen days left before break out. Already four of the awakened people
had indicated that they would like to remain on Antigua if they could. She
wasn't sure what to make of that. On the one hand it was good, it felt like
they were getting on with their lives, and they wouldn't be a burden to the
ship. However on the other hand she felt just a slight resentment for the
others. It was like they weren't grateful enough to stick around. She realized
it was an irrational annoyance but it lingered.

“Something
on your mind doctor?” the professor asked. Numiria flicked her ears for a
moment and then shrugged as she gathered her materials. The professor was one
of the first three sleepers she had awakened. He was doing his best to
assimilate into the time period. It helped that he was a newly retired
professor of history, he had enjoyed taking on some of the classes. He'd been
appalled by the lack of knowledge and had taken a hand early on. The idea of
civilization going through a dark ages was intriguing to him. He had put his
long silver hair up into a braided ponytail the first day and then started
pestering the staff and crew for interviews. It was amusing when she heard he
liked to interview his own students.

Numiria
shook her head. “No, just getting my thoughts in order. Are you still
considering leaving?” She was trying to keep from sounding hopeful. The
professor was a nice guy, he was smart, but he could be a pain in the ass
asking about the same story over and over again. She wasn't sure why. Thorough
apparently.

“I'd
like to get out and see the galaxy,” the professor said wryly, running his hand
through his silver hair. It was thin on top, something he had never bothered to
correct. Part of his image. He liked the idea of being a hippy history
professor so he liked to look the part. “That was why I retired and decided to
travel after all,” he said and hid a grimace. “That and to meet women my own
age or younger,” he admitted with a small smile.

Numiria
smiled at that last bit. “The galaxy is changed professor,” she cautioned.

“Indeed
it has. It has a lot.” He stared into the star field holographic projection for
a long moment. Finding out his home world was gone had been even more of a shock
to his system than finding out he had been time lost. He had no home to go back
to and that bothered him.

“Have
you considered the admiral's suggestion? To go to Pyrax?” Numiria asked
finally. The admiral had been one target of the professor's that had so far had
thwarted his attempts at an interview.

“To
teach at the college?” He shook his head. “I'm not sure that's for me,” he
said. He exhaled heavily.

She
patted him on the shoulder. “Well, there are other places to teach. And we do
need your experience professor.”

He
nodded. “So I've seen. You and your people have done what you can to pass the
torch of knowledge in these dark times. I commend you on your efforts,” the
professor said, cocking his head.

“We
haven't been very successful. But with the admiral and people like you we will
be able to get things back on the right track again. I believe that now more
than ever,” she said.

“Light
at the end of the tunnel,” the professor murmured. She nodded as she followed
him out of the classroom.

The
Warners met with some of the people rescued from stasis in group therapy. The
ensign was doing better. She still has trouble speaking and moving about
however so she let her husband handle most of the load. He definitely led the
discussions.

The
lieutenant was feeling much better, feeling that he had a lot more energy than
ever before. He still had migraines when he attempted to access his implants,
but they were slowly going away. Or at least dulling down. He wasn't sure if it
was a psychosomatic response to the trauma or not. The medics weren't sure
either. He hadn't been happy about that until he realized they were still
learning all this. To them it was all new and exciting. He kept forgetting
that, which was annoying. He hated getting old. There was something he needed
to tell them, something about his family history but for the life of him he
couldn't quite remember. It was frustrating sometimes, knowing you wanted to
say something but not what. He felt a pang of remorse for Rasha. She deserved
better.

Since
the awakening program had begun the medical staff had perfected their technique
and were now waking an average of two people a day. Recovery time was mixed,
but most were out of the infirmary wards in a week.

The
nightly meetings grew out of necessity after several of the sleepers had
nightmares and minor incidents. Several interesting people including a retired
college professor and a boat mechanic tended to stand out over others. The boat
mechanic's wife didn't survive and he was having trouble with the grief. He was
anguished for the first several days but the grief was lessening over time. He
is not sure why they saved him.

The
boat mechanic wandered into the machine shop one morning, twelve days before
break out. He wasn't sure why they were counting down like that. Really, it was
no big deal.

He
was lost, not just in the ship but in what to do with his life. Seeing the
makeshift machine shop kindled his interest, however slim. He went over and
stroked the side of an old press.

Gus
was put out at his intrusion but he was ensnared into the discussion of gears
and cams with Bert. Bert however peppers the older man with questions on all
things mechanical, ignoring the awkwardness of the initial moment. Ralph the
mechanic is interested by the boy's interest in all things mechanical, and a
little appalled by his ignorance. He answered the questions, sketching out
details with his hands. They bond almost immediately which is surprising to
both. Gus shot Barry a look as he watched the two interact. Barry shrugged it
off. They integrated the mechanic into the team.

Ralph
patiently lectured the group on shop safety, stopping them to replicate plastic
eyewear to protect them. He then lectured each with a safety course complete
with a quiz. By the time they were finished with the project Barry had called
the chief in. He had a quick consult with her before O'Mallory came over.

Ralph
is busy explaining to an enraptured Bert how a planetary gear set works. When
Bert looked concerned at the chief’s approach he paused and turned. “Can I help
you miss?”

She
crossed her arms, studying the older man. She'd heard there were a few
engineers and mechanics in the sleepers but so far none had seemed interested
in helping out until now. “My name is Chief Quinna O'Mallory. I'm the chief
engineer. You are my new machine shop steward. Are you up for the challenge?”
she asked simply and bluntly.

He
blinked at her a few times. Bert grinned up at him and nodded.

“Can
I take Bert on as an apprentice?” he asked finally.

She
looked at Bert. Bert grinned. He hadn't really been working out with Barry;
they clashed on too many things. “Sure. How many can you handle?” O'Mallory
asked, cocking her head.

“Um...”

She
smiled. “Want to start out with two?” she suggested. He shrugged. “Okay, I'll put
the word out. My last shop steward was injured and he's in sickbay. Doc has to
put his hand back together.”

Ralph
winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.
He's going to be there a week. He's a bit skittish about coming back too. Since
you are an old hand and you have clued these nut jobs into safety I think
you'll do nicely,” O'Mallory said.

“Thank
you chief,” Ralph said, nodding. Bert was practically dancing a jig beside him.
He looked at the lad and snorted softly. He reached out and ruffled the lad's
hair. “Do my best,” he said gruffly.

“Good.
Both of you.” O'Mallory nodded again and then left without further word. She
shot Barry a look as she left and gave him a small nod. Barry nodded and smiled
a little. Ralph would do nicely here.

The
oldster had a lot of stories which the younger set loved to listen to. They
seemed fascinated by his stories. The attention and fan base helped him cope.
He also bonded with another senior who made it. She was younger but interested
in the mechanical bits. He shyly fabricated a hand turned mechanical ballerina
for her. She was fascinated and delighted by the gift. It took him a week to
realize she was more interested in him than in all things mechanical. When he
realized that he was flabbergasted.

Irons
ran into a geneticist who had been awoken. She was a T'clock, and she's old.
Easily three centuries old and definitely in her twilight years. Irons sat and
talked with her as she looked at a view screen of space. She has an embroidered
shawl on her shoulders and back. Tassels dangle from its edges. “The others are
finding things to do,” the scientist said. “I don't think there is a place for
me.”

“Nonsense,”
Irons said. “For one the doctor could use your help repairing genetic damage to
some of the other sleepers,” he said.

The
alien insect waved her antenna, her species version of a nod. “I have
considered that.”

“That
job is needed in a lot of places. But where we really need your help is in
Pyrax,” the admiral said firmly.

“Pyrax?”
The alien turned her full attention on him.

He
nodded. “Yes. The medical staff there are trying to resurrect two species of
sophonts before they slip into death and extinction again. One of them is the
Ssislli. The other is the Malekian's.”

“Really?”
The alien asked, clearly interested in the gargantuan project.

Irons
nodded once more. “Yes. You could be a real asset to that effort. I understand
there is a genealogist trying to help but she is largely self taught. That is
the problem with many people here; they do not have a proper foundation of
education and knowledge to work from. Especially in fields like yours.”

“I
see,” the alien murmured. She clicked her mandibles together a few times.

“Consider
it carefully please. You have a priceless base of experience and training. One
that could be passed on at the Pyrax College as well. Or you're efforts could
lead to restoring a species to full health.”

“Interesting,”
she murmured. “I may become famous yet,” she said finally.

The
admiral cocked his head at that admission and then shrugged. “With a little
hard work yes. At the very least you will have the gratitude of an entire
species if you are successful,” Irons said.

“If,”
she mused. Her mandibles clicked a few times as she turned the idea over in her
heart shaped head.

The
admiral nodded soberly. “It is a hard challenge. I understand there is an
extremely limited gene pool to go off of. One member of each species and what
data the medical staff has in the college textbooks. Add the medical database
files and you are still...”

“Trying
to do the impossible. But if it can be imagined it can be done. I will consider
your words carefully admiral,” The alien clicked and then bowed. Irons bowed
back.