Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (31 page)

“One, I was using it to eat before I make rounds,” the man said,
sounding a bit put out.

“Sorry, I know feeding time,” Sprite replied. She cocked her
virtual head. “We have a crew member that needs medical attention.”

“Then send them here,” the SBA said.

“Unfortunately she can't be moved,” Sprite said with a slight
smile. “She being our Ssilli friend.”

“Oh um...” the Sick Berth Attendant looked around in confusion.
“Um...” He shook his head and then took another sip of soup. “I don't know if
anyone here is qualified to help her you said?”

“Yes, her. Female. I have some medical files in my database, and I
know Phoenix has more. And she can coach us through the basics if needed. Right
now treating malnutrition, sores, and other things are a problem.”

A person groaned and then moved. Sprite couldn't see well with the
camera positions. After a moment someone got out of the nearby bed and pulled
the white curtain aside. “Is she stable?” Holly Glenn asked, scrubbing her eyes
and face.

“Yes ma'am,” Sprite replied, putting the alien's vital signs up
beside her head image. Holly traced the bio signs for a moment with her finger,
pursing her lips. Sprite put up a baseline for comparison.

“I wish Marty was here. And that we knew more about her species
physiology,” Holly murmured.

“I have the basic files and one comparison file when the Admiral
and I encountered another of her species a few years ago.”

“You... so they aren't extinct?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no? What does that mean? I'm a little tired here,” Holly
warned. Rajesh offered her his soup cup but she shook her head silently and put
a hand up. He went over to the beverage replicator and made her a steaming cup
of something. He came back and put it in her hands. She took a sip and then sat
back with a sigh. “Thanks,” she murmured gratefully.

“You're welcome,” he said, finishing his soup. He put the cup and
spoon in the replicator for recycling. “I'm going to make my rounds since you
are up,” he said. She smiled and saluted him with her cup.

“Now... where is she?” Holly asked.

“Deck four, between cargo bay six and compartments E-11 through
12. She's a mess.” Sprite replaced her own image with the aliens. The alien
bobbed in her tank.

“Damn,” Holly said, hunching over the screen. “I so wish Marty was
here for this,” she said.

“Marty?”

“Marty Glenn. My husband. Doctor,” Holly said. She sat back. “I'm
not even sure what he could do. We don't have many supplies as it is,” she said
with a sigh.

“We're working on that. Admiral Irons will eventually get down to
sickbay and clean things up and make you a medical replicator.”

“He...” Holly's eyes went wide. “That's not possible!”

Sprite returned her image to the screen. She smiled.

“Isn't it?” Holly asked. Sprite nodded. “He... and you...” she
sputtered.

“Drink your coffee Nurse Glenn,” Sprite said, grinning now.

“It's tea actually. Fortified tea,” Holly replied. The crew were
digging into the rations, eating and in some cases getting sick since they had
been on starvation rations for so long. Hopefully they would settle down soon.
“And you can call me Holly.” There was a slight twinkle in the woman's eye.

“You can call me Sprite. Instead of Lieutenant Commander Sprite,
or Commander Sprite,” the AI replied, preening a bit.

“Pleased to meet you,” Holly said, smiling slightly.

“Well, I'm glad we've got that covered. And I'm glad to see you
kept a small sliver of your sense of humor,” Sprite teased.

“A little.”

“The problem with the medical replicator is that you can use it to
a degree, but to get full use out of it you have to be a medical officer. Which
you aren't.”

“No, I'm not,” Holly said, and then looked at the machinery.
Rajesh went over to the supply room next to the replicator and came back out
with a blanket. Apparently a patient was cold, or needed to be propped up.

“I wish I were, but I'm not,” Holly said softly. She sighed.

“But you can be,” Sprite said. That got the woman's attention. She
stared at the AI. Sprite smiled again and nodded.

“You've definitely gotten my attention. Tell me more,” Holly
drawled, sitting back and cradling her tea, ready to listen.

“So it's confirmed?” Ian asked, looking up as the Admiral
returned from making rounds.

“Is what confirmed?” Irons asked. He looked around. The bridge
crew had settled in nicely. They had the smallest department, with six ratings
and two officers. Hopefully they would get more hands to thicken the watch
roster soon.

“That Blye bought it.”

“He did?” One of the ratings asked looking up. “How?” He asked,
sounding troubled.

“Died in his sleep,” Sprite replied. The others looked up to the
overhead. They were still getting used to her. “And yes, confirmed. I have his
face on camera. He's definitely dead. There were only four blond Horathian's on
the ship, all are accounted for.” She flashed a headshot of the Horathian in
death briefly on all the screens before returning them to normal.

“Damn,” the OPS rating hissed in disappointment and anger. “The
bastard got off easy,” he growled. He angrily clutched at his seat for a long
moment. He rocked a little, clearly fuming over the injustice.

“That he did,” Ian growled. He patted the man on the shoulder. “I
so wanted to give him a taste of some of the things he did to us. Just a taste
mind you, I'm not that sick.”

“Not yet anyway,” the rating replied. “Though I wouldn't mind him
and a few others getting a taste of their own medicine,” he growled. He turned
to the Admiral. “How about it sir?”

“No,” Irons relied quietly but firmly. “We're not them. We won't
lower ourselves to their level,” he said.

“Why the hell not?” the rating demanded.

“Because, we're going to use them. They don't know it, but they
are going to
regret
staying alive.” He smiled maliciously. A few stared
at him in mingled anger and resentment, a few looked troubled. “We're going to
suck as much information as we can out of them. And then they are going to be
locked in that little room, or one like it, for the rest of their lives.”

“Oh.”

“Still too easy,” the rating grumbled. He looked over to a robot
cleaning up some dried blood on the deck and then looked away.

“Think about it. Do you want them to have a quick death? Or get
to stare at the walls slowly going nuts?”

“Um...” the rating frowned. “I don't know.”

“Until you do, let's just leave them be. Death is too quick, too
permanent,” Ian said, nodding as he concentrated on his station. “Damn this is
a pain in the ass moving with that ship stuck to us like a remora,” he said.

“Been ground side?” Irons asked.

“Huh?”

“Remora?”

“Oh, sorry, heard it somewhere. Saw a movie on fish.”

“Oh.”

The Admiral sat for a moment then got up. “I'm going to go check
my ship, then see if we can tie her into the Bounty's systems. That way we can
move a bit quicker and the AI can coordinate on software repairs.”

“Software repairs?” Ian asked.

“Yes,” Sprite replied. “Software needs to be fixed just like
hardware you know.”

“Oh.”

“It's why sometimes your systems go buggy and need a reboot,”
Sprite said patiently.

“Actually ma'am, I do know a little about computers and software.
And I can get around a freeze if I need to,” Ian said holding up a hand.

“Oh,” Sprite said. “Good for you,” she said and then clicked off.

“All right, Mister McGuyver, you have the bridge,” the Admiral
said. “I'll be in Phoenix, then I'll take a quick run through the ship, check
in with Mister Gustov, and then swing by main engineering before I head back in
a couple hours.”

“Aye sir, I have the bridge. You stand relieved,” Ian said
formally.

“I am relieved,” the Admiral said formally, nodding to the acting
executive officer. He turned and exited the bridge.

 “A
nd while
you're out and about, I suggest a meal,” Ian called out. Irons waved at the
hatch. “And bring me back something too!” Irons chuckled softly as he continued
on his way.

Irons did a quick check of his ship. It was still a mess, with
wiring, panels, and other things ripped out. The looters had certainly had
their way with the ship; it was picked over pretty bad.

Phoenix had done the best it could in self-repair, but without
power, there was not much else it could do. Irons checked the reactor, but
there was considerable damage. The EMP had fried some of the control software.
It was at least a two-day job. He checked the timer on his HUD. They had just
under twenty-three hours until they arrived at the first ship. “I don't have
time for this, sorry,” he said, looking up.

“It's understandable Admiral,” Phoenix replied, sounding
understanding. “Can you run me a couple power cables? I'm down to five percent
on reserve power.”

“I can do that and send you some repair robots,” the Admiral said.
“Use them to police the bodies and mess and then get them on repairs,” the Admiral
replied.

“Understood Admiral. You do understand you locked down the
replicators right?” Phoenix asked.

Irons grimaced. He'd done a great deal more than that. Since they
were milspec industrial replicators going into enemy hands he'd fried them.
That was a problem.

“We can reset them in a bit. Let me get the power situation sorted
out first. Sprite, connect me to Sindri please.”

“Working on it sir,” Defender responded.

Irons grunted. “Sprite still busy?”

“Yes Admiral,” the security AI replied. The Admiral heard a
familiar clacking and turned to see a robotic dog enter the airlock. It turned
and sat in the center of the lock. “And what is that doing here?”

“Security. I don't want anyone tampering with the ship in your
absence sir,” Defender replied.

The Admiral opened his mouth to object but Phoenix beat him too
it. “Actually, I agree with the Lieutenant,” the AI responded. “We don't know
these people well, and I'd feel more secure with it on station Admiral. That
is, if you don't mind,” the AI said.

Irons closed his mouth and then looked at the robot. It was a
basic mastiff model, gunmetal in color, with the number four stenciled on its
sides. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “If it makes the two of you feel better
to keep the tourists and looters at bay, by all means,” he said, waving a
dismissive hand.

“Sindri here,” the Admiral heard through his implants. “Admiral?”

“Yes. Can you tell me if there are any spare power cables? I need
to tie Phoenix's systems into Bounty,” the Admiral said. “And data lines as
well.” He outlined his plan.

“Sure,” Sindri said slowly. The Admiral could imagine him stroking
his beard. “Why though?” he asked. “If you don't mind my asking.”

“Phoenix is going to help the other AI and you on the ship's
repair. And vice versa as well. I also have some military grade replicators
that need TLC and power. Since Phoenix's reactors are out...” he frowned.  He
had installed a back up reactor but Phoenix reported it missing. “And my back
up reactor is missing, we are lacking power.”

“No power, no ship. Got it. I'm shorthanded right now, but I can
get you the cables.”

“I can do the install myself,” Irons replied straightening. He
wanted to keep the image of someone who didn't mind getting their hands dirty.
After all, it was true. “And I can get the cables. I unfortunately don't have
an inventory list.”

“Forward cargo bay. Bay five. Above the boat bay Admiral,” Sindri
replied after a moment. “Sure you don't want me to send someone?”

“I'm the type of officer who loves getting his hands dirty,” the Admiral
replied with a smile. “I'll get it done.”

“Good. To tell the truth, we could use the added load to keep the
bottle going.”

“We're going to work on the software too. Eventually,” the Admiral
replied. “And you'll find the people with implants and the AI may have an
easier job with it,” he said, remembering the implants.

“True. When do I get them?” Sindri asked.

“As soon as I've got time,” the Admiral replied with a sigh,
moving off to the cargo bay.

“Okay, I'll hold you too that,” Sindri replied and closed the
circuit.

With his internal map of the ship it only took the Admiral a few
minutes to find the indicated cargo bay and enter it. He looked around,
scanning it. There were all sorts of crates, barrels, and boxes arranged on
rows of shelves or on pallets. The bay was quite full; apparently the Captain
had taken his pick of materials from the prize ships.

He looked around until he spotted coils of cable hanging by the
door for easy access. Apparently someone was smart, they had secured the cables
there in case of need for damage control. The Admiral grabbed a cable and
tossed over one shoulder, then picked up a box of ODN cable and left the
compartment.

Running the cable was a simple job, though he didn't like leaving
the airlock compromised. If there was a catastrophic emergency, or leak, the
ships would be compromised and the crew's safety threatened. He frowned, but
then shrugged. It wasn't like the Horathian's hadn't already done it throughout
the ship. He'd just have to fix it when he had time.

Plugging the cables in was simple. The power cable wasn't a room
temperature superconductor; instead it was a copper alloy of twisted braids. It
could handle about a megawatt of electrical draw, enough for some of the
systems on Phoenix, and more than enough for the computers.

“Thank you Admiral,” Phoenix said as he finished the ODN
connections. “I've tied the WI-Fi into the Bounty's net as well, but the
nearest node is over a hundred meters away and data transmission is subpar.
Below one meg per second of bandwidth.”

“I'll look for a node that is closer and see if I can fix it,” the
Admiral replied with a nod. “Did you report in?”

“Affirmative.”

“Lend a hand where you can, or work on your own repairs. Can your
engines speed us up?”

“No Admiral, the current course is already set. Changing our speed
now would throw the course off or we would overshoot.”

“Very well.”

“Admiral, if you have a moment, can you repair one of the
industrial replicators? By the way, the food replicator in the galley is
functional.”

“I forgot it,” Irons muttered. He went to the nearest replicator
and had Proteus repair it. It took the better part of an hour to rebuild its
control hardware, reprogram it, and then seed the nanites once more.”

“Thank you Admiral. With this I can get on some of the repairs and
exchange parts with Bounty. If someone can send me materials,” the AI said.

“I said I'm on it,” Sprite replied from the overhead PA. She
sounded testy and annoyed at being interrupted.

“A bot will do. Behave you two,” Irons said, exiting the ship. He
ducked under the hatch and cables and made a note to find ties to secure the
cables so they would be out of the way of the crew. Hopefully he'd have time...
he put the thought aside. He'd deal with what came up the best he can when it
did.

<----*----*----*---->

Admiral Irons met up with a tall lad leaning tiredly against a
bulkhead by his elbows. He looked beat, with his tattered red and white shirt
and broken glasses. He was scarecrow thin, like many of the former prisoners,
but also tall, a good two hundred centimeters. But there was something there; a
living fire and a stubborn will that refused to be stamped out. A determination
to survive, he surmised, noting the pistol stuffed in the young man's belt.

“Here,” Irons said, reaching out and touching the broken lens. It
had a spider web look, broken by some form of impact. The young man gasped as
seemingly by magic the cracks healed themselves. After a moment the tape over
the bridge and over one ear dissolved and the frame was repaired as well.
“There, better?” Irons asked.

The man nodded, taking the glasses off to look at them. He stared
at the Admiral in wonder.

“No problem. I suggest once things settle down you put in for
laser surgery so you won't need the glasses anymore. Or nanite repair,” the Admiral
said, waving a hand.

The man blinked at him owlishly and then put the glasses back on.

“And get a new shirt,” Irons said, trying hard not to wrinkle his
nose. Everyone stank, it was something he had gotten used to in the brig. “See
you around,” Irons said.

The young man nodded and waved as the Admiral left.

<----*----*----*---->

Once the Admiral checked in on the brig and engineering, he met up
with a tired but stubbornly awake Gustov. The man was made out of stern stuff,
able to stay on his feet for so long without implants or drugs. Well, he did
rely on one drug, caffeine, the Admiral observed, watching the man suck down a
second cup of coffee since he had come into the armory. He had also had a stop
by sickbay, the cuts and bruises on his face were visibly healing. Apparently
Nurse Glenn had given everyone a dose of quick heal. Good.