Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (4 page)

He
examined the exterior hull. She was battered; centuries of constant use had
taken a toll. Most of her paint was gone, most likely ablated by the solar
wind. Her hull was patched in various places. Her cab looked like a quilt; it
was covered in patches of various sizes and metal types. From the look of some
of them they were only tack welded on. He winced.

The
tug was massive, about the size of a large cargo shuttle with a small two
seater closet like cab offset from the middle. Her main engine was torn apart.
In front was a pair of bumpers, as well as what looked like industrial
tractors. From the look of them they had been scavenged.

On
the right side was a series of spherical fuel and life support tanks.  Nestled
behind them near the center line was her micro reactor. OMS pods were attached
on booms front, back and center. Landing skids held her up off the deck. From
the look of one of the legs someone had tack welded it to keep it fused. Odd,
it should have hydraulics to allow it to cushion its landings. He shook his
head as he ran his hands along her flank.

“She's
not factory new, not by a long shot,” O'Reilly sighed softly.

The
girl looked up with a grim expression. “She's beautiful!” she said defending
the battered craft.

“She
a wreck. Junior really trashed the reactor and engine. Damn, he burned out
power couplers, aw crap! Tell me he didn't!” O'Reilly swore softly as he
examined the rear engine thrusters. “Damn him! He did, dumb punk ran her on
full afterburners after we told him and told him not to!” The sandy haired man
shook his head. No wonder she barely made it home! He fried half her systems!”

Irons
winced. If the boy had run her at full afterburner they were talking about a
complete overhaul. Most likely her coolant system was slagged. He sighed.

“You
can play with the tug later. I think it's high time for bed,” Senora Valdez
came in and waved. “Mickal you've got a shift in five hours. Admiral, you've
been on your feet for a while, time you get some rest and start fresh in the
morning.” The Admiral was about to protest but O'Reilly shook his head, hand on
his arm.

“Don't
mate, you won’t get anywhere but more tired. She's a stubborn one, and once she
up and puts her mind to something, best go along with it.” The girl nodded with
a smile. Both Valdez women crossed their arms and gave the men pointed hurry up
expressions.

O'Reilly
raised his arms in surrender. “I'm going, I'm going,” he chuckled and left.

“Honestly
ladies, I can handle it. I've got plenty of stamina, and the situation is critical.”
The Admiral tried to get them to leave off but both took him by the arm.

“That
may be, but I promised Jorge he would be here when you got to work, and since
he's in bed....” The women dragged him into the main living quarters.

“All
right then, I'll just take a walk about the station.”

The
girl shook her head. “Are you nuts? On graveyard? If you don't get your throat
slit by the underground gangs your liable to be pinched and tossed out the
nearest airlock by the guard!” He looked at her disbelieving.

“You’re
serious?” he asked surprised. She nodded.

“Admiral,
my understanding of the culture of this place leads me to believe she is
telling the trut,.” Sprite reported. He sighed. “Besides, you do need some
rest, and I can chomp some bytes while you do,” Sprite wheedled.

“All
right, you talked me into it.” He gave in with good grace and let them hustle
him into the tiny room. The door closed behind him with a click. He stretched
out on the small bunk and closed his eyes.

“Ah
Admiral?” Sprite asked.  He sighed.

“Yes?”
,e asked Sprite.

“You
mind plugging me in? I can't find a wireless node.” She reported. He sighed.

He
got up and checked the terminal. It was dead. He pulled it aside and found the
ODN cable. He attached a shunt from his kit, then a cable to his jack. He
really didn't need to, Proteus could have modified the jack with his nanites,
but he didn't want to waste the time and energy when he didn't need to. “That
better?” he asked. He also plugged into the micro reactor to recharge. He wasn't
comfortable using the family's power if they are in a power crisis.

“Much,
thank you Admiral,” Sprite replied sounding distant and distracted.

“Glad
to help.” He sighed as he laid out again, trying to be mindful of the plastic
tethers.

He
thought about sleep, and then put the thought aside. He pulled up a schematic
of the system then zoomed out to the Oort cloud. The map was from his files. He
accessed the information the captain of the Io11 had provided and overlaid it.
He grimaced. The system now had three belts, two where planets once were. Most
of the system's infrastructure had been smashed. He browsed the files Sprite
had grabbed from Anvil's files and found another map. He pulled it up and
stacked it on top of the other two then collapsed the stack into one.

There
were over two dozen identified colonies. Several were small outposts in the
Oort cloud. Some were non Terran. There were two on moons of the second gas
giant. Both were troglodyte. He made a note for Sprite to get more info on
each, including trade and traffic patterns then moved on. He saved the file
then opened the station map.

“Crap.”
He winced as the map unfolded and overtaxed his optical graphic processors. He
scaled the map down to manageable proportions then sighed in relief.

“Buffer
overrun. Graphic processors in you are not designed to handle that level of
data Admiral,” Defender reported.

He
sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He spun the image then zoomed in.

Sprite
had data codes on each section. As he examined the reactors more data on their
deck popped up as links. He smiled then returned his attention to the reactors.
For some reason the only data on file was the basic tourist data from the net.
The computer had no access to the reactors. He frowned. “Curious.” He checked
the upper decks. The sickbay was near the top deck, occupying a ring directly
below the command deck. Below sickbay were several decks labeled luxury. One
area on deck eleven was even labeled as a casino. That must have been where the
customs agent had tried to direct him to earlier.

He
clicked a link and a window popped open. The video was a live feed from the
local security camera near the door. He impatiently closed the link. “Curiouser
and curiouser. This place is screwed up.” He sighed as he pulled up the
information on the Valdez compound.

The
data on the tug he glanced over then set aside. The data was at best based on
his own observations, he already knew it. The stock information was next to
useless. She had been severely modified over time so nothing would be to spec.
He checked the logs of the family junk pile Sprite had compiled.

After
nearly a half hour of browsing the known list he signed off. It was interesting
really, the family had been collecting junk either on the station through trade
or salvage for possibly centuries. Much of what Sprite had listed in the spread
sheet was only the top layer closest to where he had been standing. If you
added in the past one hundred years or so below and behind that, it was quite a
haul. Some of the data was sketchy at best, with just a weak transponder link
to identify the object. He sighed and rolled over, letting slumber finally take
him.

The
next morning he woke after his customary four hours of sleep, but spent an hour
digesting reports from Sprite while he tapped the power net to recharge his
implants.

“So
you can't get into engineering or the luxury suites at all?” he asked, going
over the AI's report. She had mapped out areas in the mainframe that were
jealously guarded by what she called a senile civilian AI. He shook his head
and grimaced.

“Not
without tripping every alarm that overloaded AI has. It's so senile I am afraid
of what it would do, it could send bots after me and wreck something
important.” She shook her virtual head. “It has the home field advantage here;
it was built into the network. It may have retreated to the critical systems
areas, but I am not going to push it unless I have to,” she reported. He
grunted.

“Did
you get any more information on the station itself?” he asked. Data scrolled
across his field of view, then her virtual image.

“Oh
loads, but its eight centuries of junk and debris. It's going to take a
dedicated librarian AI to sort out this mess. There is crap... Let's just say
organics aren't the only pack rats in the universe.” She sighed. He chuckled.

“Yeah,
I can imagine,” he replied.

“Then
again, since you created us, it's not exactly our fault,” she said smiling.
“Fruit doesn't fall far from the tree in other words?” he said getting dressed.
“Something like that Admiral. By my calculations the family should be getting
up right about...” He heard a soft thunk in the living quarters. “Now,” she
said rather smugly. He chuckled again.

“That
sounds like O’Reilly; he has a bounce shift and should be heading off soon.
Mrs. Valdez is in the refresher now; she should be getting ready for her shift
in the greenhouses as soon as she chases the kids off to school,” Sprite
reported.

“They
have a school here?” he asked looking up.

“Rudimentary
one Admiral, circa eighteenth or nineteenth century Earth. It is as much a day
care and child labor camp as it is a place of learning. The basics are taught,
reading, writing and arithmetic I believe you call it. During periods like
harvesting and planting, they have no schooling at all.” Sprite brought up a
timetable and showed it to him as he stretched. He wasn't happy about seeing
the kids cleaning air ducts. That wasn't kosher in his book.

“Right.
So they rely on manual labor as much as mechanical labor even on a space
station. That also means they are not afraid of work and getting their hands
dirty. Good to know,” he nodded as he pushed the key to open the door. It
didn't budge.

“Locked
in,” Sprite reported. “Mechanical lock outside the mainframe.”

“Jack
in Admiral and I can get us out,” Proteus replied. Defender sent a concurrent
thought.

“That
may not be wise; it may alarm our host’s Admiral,” Sprite reported.

The
Admiral shrugged. “No helping it, I'm not going to be a prisoner. I had fifteen
months of that on Io.” He placed his right hand up to the keypad. Proteus sent
tendrils of nanites out into the cracks around the buttons, entering the
electronics. After a moment the door opened.

“Did
you log the things the living quarters need?” he asked looking back and forth.
O'Reilly was already gone.

“Judging
from the external tanks under it, the food replicator has been jury rigged into
creating different pastes and water. Without a closer look I would say either
the electronics or software has faults. Lights, heat, gravity, and ultrasonics
are also in need of various stages of repair I can list them...” Proteus
trailed off.

The
Admiral smiled. The AI knew when to give details, and when not to. “Pass for
now. One thing at a time. Obviously coffee is not going to be one of them.” He
looked longingly at the food replicator then shook his head.

“I
want a closer look at that tug, I need to get into her systems and get a handle
on what we are up against.” He turned down the hall not even bothering with the
lights. His visual implants picked up the ambient light from the living room,
giving him more than enough to navigate.

Entering
the bay he took a quick look then climbed up to the cab. He ran his hand along
the side, feeling the craters. “She's been through a lot. Shields are out from
the feel, I think this one is an asteroid hit.” His left hand rested on a
patch.

“Confirmed,
Admiral, this hull doesn't have pressure integrity. Some of those patches leak.
There are cracks as well,” Proteus reported. He nodded.

“I
thought I'd find you here.” Jorge's gravelly voice made him turn.

“Just
trying to earn my keep,” the Admiral replied. Jorge chuckled softly. Junior
came in and palmed the lights on. His father blinked at the sudden change in
light.

The
Admiral noted Junior putting away his stunner. “I could have sworn I locked
that door...” Junior said softly.

“You
did,” the Admiral replied. Junior looked up at him. “I'm an engineer. Don't
worry about it.” The Admiral waved his right hand. He sent a mental command and
Proteus morphed his hand into a torch.

Jorge
looked away as he morphed the hand back. “I'm going to jack in and see what I
can get off the computer,” he told Jorge who nodded. The wounded man was
clutching his crutch and sweating. The Admiral nodded to Junior, then jerked
his head to Jorge then over to a crate. Junior nodded slowly.

“Come
on Papa; let's get you sitting so Mama won’t yell.” He escorted his father over
to the crate as the Admiral palmed the lock and climbed inside.

“Our
family has relied on that tug for generations to keep us out of debt and to
give us a home,” Jorge explained rather loudly. The Admiral grunted as he
checked the cockpit. It was clean, most likely because dirt in null gee did
nasty things to people and electronics. Even an eyelash could blind someone
under acceleration. There was a lot of wiring, and only minimum controls hooked
up. Most of her controls were jury rigged from other things. The joystick was
from a fighter he noted. From the lack of wear, it looked like a new addition.