Hermes Ch. 01

"Max, give me a damage report," I muttered.

"Starboard engine nacelle sheared off, minor damage to starboard bow hull, main power system offline, sir," came the response from Max.

"Shit! And where are we, Max?" I responded.

"We are currently in an uncontrolled drift towards the stellar north, sir," Max reported.

The view outside the windows was nauseating, with the stars moving in a tumbling motion across the window.

"Max, are the maneuvering thrusters working and can you stabilize the ship?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir. The broken starboard nacelle has shorted the primary energy system. The maneuvering thrusters are functional, but stopping the spin will take some time," Max replied.

"Ok, how long?" I inquired.

"Three hours, 23 minutes, and 12 seconds, sir," Max calculated.

"Get to it," I ordered.

"Affirmative, sir," Max acknowledged.

"Status of the new Core?" I asked.

"In standby mode, no damage detected, sir," Max reported.

Well, at least my newest acquisition was not damaged.

First, I needed to get some control back. The maneuvering thrusters could stop the spin, but not our drift. I got out of my chair and walked down to the storage bay. It looked mostly normal, with some of the smaller and lighter tools tossed around by the sudden change in direction. But it seemed that nothing was broken. I walked to the wall panel I removed to install the core. The connections looked good, and the core had not moved.

"Max, where is the coupling for the Starboard nacelle?" I asked.

"Under floor panel 13-D, sir," Max responded.

13-D was under some heavy crates with spare parts.

"Max, reduce the gravity to 0.1g," I said.

"Affirmative, sir," Max acknowledged.

Instantly, I felt lighter, and now I could move the crates without much effort. I activated my magnetic boots, so I didn't drift away, and started to move the crates.

After I had moved the crates, I instructed Max to set the gravity back to normal. As the weight returned, I bent down and removed Panel 13-D.

"Shit!" I said out loud as I saw the damage to the energy coupling. It had started to melt, and the connections to the Starboard side were ripped halfway out. I grabbed a spare coupling from a crate and some other parts and got to work.

"Try it now, Max," I said after I replaced the coupling.

"Affirmative, Port engine online, but only in emergency mode. Multiple couplings and manifolds are damaged, sir," Max reported.

Emergency mode meant that I could only use 5% of the nominal thrust. With that, it would take months to slow down and even longer to get back to any human station. I couldn't repair it now, the ship was still spinning, and I would get flung into space if I tried to get to the engine on the outside.

"I'll take a nap, Max, wake me when the spin has stopped," I said.

"Affirmative, sir," Max acknowledged.

—

Nearly 3 hours later, Max woke me up and informed me that the spin had stopped. I got out of my small quarters and put on my EVA suit, depressurized the storage bay and opened the airlock. With a crate full of spare couplings, manifolds, high gauge wires, and tools secured to my suit, I crawled on the hull to the Port nacelle. It did not look good; I could see the start of a crack on the hull. The inner parts looked even worse; molten couplings and deformed manifolds in nearly every corner. While I was out there, I also took a look at the Starboard nacelle, or at least where it used to be. The strut that connected the nacelle to the hull seemed to have sheared off near the nacelle. The engine then hit the bow hull and left some heavy scratches in the paint.

It took me nearly 2 hours and multiple trips back into the ship to repair all the damages. I also welded on some new struts to secure the nacelle to the main hull.

"Max, status of the Port Engine?" I asked while I took off the EVA suit.

"Port engine online, all damages repaired, sir," replied Max.

That was good; now Max could use the engine to stop our drift and get us back to somewhere.

"Max, use the engine to stop our drift and use up to 200% of nominal power," I decided.

With 200%, the engine would output 8g of thrust, that should stop us in a reasonable time. It would probably take multiple days to get back, but I don't want to risk it with more power.

"Affirmative, sir," acknowledged Max.

It seems that, with some upgrades to the couplings, the engines can handle 25G, but not the nacelle struts.

—

I was just about to make myself something to eat when Max's voice broke the near silence on the ship. "Unknown heat signature detected!"

I nearly dropped the lab meat that I had just taken out of the freezer.

"What?" I responded.

"Unknown heat signature detected, 52 km to starboard," Max repeated.

I put the meat back and sprinted to the cockpit.

"Show it to me," I said after I got back into my chair.

"Minimal heat signature, possible from a fusion reactor with minimal power. No known ships or stations should be this far out," said Max, while an infographic was displayed on a monitor.

I looked at the graphic. The heat was really minimal, only about 400 watts. Either the reactor was damaged or badly shielded.

"Start an active scan, Max," I said. "Let's see what this is."

"Affirmative, sir, starting active radar and lidar scan," Max responded.

The graphic updated me with the results. It was a smaller space station, with some heavy damage to the external systems.

"Is there any communication?" I asked.

"Negative, sir, no radio transmissions," Max replied.

"Interesting," I said, deep in my thoughts. Maybe I had just found a new base of operations?

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Max. Can we stop in time to dock with the station?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir, with our current acceleration we can dock in 8 minutes and 32 seconds," Max responded.

"Alright, get us closer to the docking port but don't dock yet," I said.

"Affirmative, holding relative position 10 km in front of docking ports," Max acknowledged.

I watched as we moved closer to the station. At first, it was barely visible to the human eye, but after a couple more minutes, it began to grow in the window. The closer we got, the more obvious it was that the station had suffered heavy damage. Multiple impacts were visible, possibly from meteorites. It was also clear that the station was really small compared to the giant stations they have around the planets. With only about 150 meters high and 80 meters in width and length, it was tiny. The Earth Station was nearly ten times that size.

I was now close enough to read the name that was painted on the hull over the docking port.

"H.E.R.M.E.S." I said out loud.

"Max, do we have anything in the database about this station?"

After a short pause, Max responded, "Negative, sir, no human station with this name is known. However, there is a similar named station 'Hermes' around Pluto, but the specifications do not match."

"Still no communication?" I asked.

"Negative, sir," Max replied.

"Try to hail them," I said.

"No response, sir, they don't seem to listen on any used channel," Max responded.

"Can we still dock?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir. The docking system used by the station is an older variant, but still compatible with ours. It is also entirely possible to dock without station power, sir," Max said.

"Good, then start the docking process. But if anything unexpected happens on the station, abort and return to this position," I instructed.

"Affirmative, sir," Max acknowledged.

I strapped on my combat gear, just in case things went south. As the ship docked, Max informed me, "Docking completed, sir, but there is no power on the station side."

"Max, can we transfer power to the Station?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir," Max responded. "Emergency reverse power transfer is possible, but it would only provide power for the immediate docking area. There will be no power beyond the next bulkhead."

"Do that and is there life support?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir," Max responded. "Systems indicate breathable air, but the oxygen concentration is suboptimal at only 18.3%. The temperature is at 15.3°C."

"Great, just great," I muttered, as I took an extra battery and put it into a pocket on my gear. If it gets too cold, the heating will drain my battery in no time. At least I don't have to keep the helmet closed, the oxygen reserves in the suit would only last for 30 minutes.

I walked to the airlock and drew my pistol. Then, I pressed the button to open the inner door.

As I opened the outer airlock, cold and stale air hit me in the face.

"Bah, smells like old socks," I exclaimed.

I looked around the docking area. It was dimly lit by some emergency lamps. To my left was a service console, and up ahead was a dark corridor. The light was barely enough to illuminate the area directly in front of the airlock. I took one glowstick out of my pocket, snapped and shook it, then threw it into the corridor. The neon green light of the stick illuminated a bit of the corridor, but the black metal walls and floors seemed to absorb most of the light.

"Max, is there a way to provide power to more of the station?" I asked.

"Impossible to say from the ship, sir. However, the service console might allow it," came out of my earpiece.

I walked over to the console and looked at it. Most of the slightly slanted surface was taken over by a big black screen. But in the top right corner was a smaller screen displaying "emergency reverse power transfer" in red letters. I shrugged, then tapped on the text. The big screen flashed for a split second and then some lines of text rolled over it. A couple of seconds later, I was greeted by a welcome screen with an unfamiliar logo. The logo was obviously for the station, and its name, "H.E.R.M.E.S." was directly under it. What surprised me was the text under the headline that explained the acronym.

H.E.R.M.E.S.

Human Engineering Research - Midas Engineering Section

"Max, do you know about the 'Midas Engineering Section'?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir," was his response. "The Midas Engineering Section was a section of the Midas Corp. They specialized in the research and development of new advanced AI systems and service bots. The Midas Corp went defunct in 2943, after the ban on advanced AI's in 2942."

Another one of the Corps that didn't make it after the AI ban more than 100 years ago. But why did they build this station, far away from every colony and orbital station? Based on the name, I would say they wanted to keep this research a secret. "Human Engineering" does not sound so good. My knowledge about the law involving human modification is next to nothing, but I'm pretty sure it was already illegal more than 200 years ago. This screams danger, I should be really careful.

I tapped on the screen, and it changed from the logo to an overview display. Most of the fields were marked with "Connection to main system lost!", but some fields showed more localized information.

Max interrupted my thoughts.

"Sir, the service console requests access to general ship information. However, the protocol used is multiple generations out of date and won't work with most of the ship's systems. Should I grant access?"

"Yes, allow read-only access," I responded.

"Affirmative, sir, read-only access granted," Max promptly replied.

At that moment, the display updated, and now showed me basic information about my ship.

Ship Name: Unnamed

Pilot: Chris Wilder

Callsign: TC-3385-1

Make: -unknown-

Model - unknown-

Status: Docked, ready for departure

Energy: -unknown-

Fuel: -unknown-

Life Support: Nominal

Emergency reverse energy transfer active

Warning: Protocol version not fully supported

As interesting as these information were, they were not helpful in my current goal. I tapped around the screen, trying to find out more about the status of the station and the surrounding sections. Most of my actions resulted in the same error message: "Connection to main system lost!" After a few more attempts, I found a menu labeled "Section Services." This menu seemed to work without a connection to the main system. I found a way to increase the power to the life support systems and also a way to allow the emergency power that my ship provided to be routed to other parts of the station. Since I wanted to be careful, I decided not to activate the power to the whole station at once. Instead, I asked Max.

"Max, can you interface with the Service Console?"

"Negative, sir," was his response. "My current connection to the Dock is severely limited by the old protocol version. However, it should be possible with a general interface transceiver."

The general interface transceiver was a really useful and, frankly, also frightening device. It allowed Max to connect to nearly any system known to humans. If a direct connection was not possible, it could even directly connect to the touch display and emulate a normal human using it.

I went back into my ship and took the transceiver out of its storage container. It was no bigger than my hand and had a multitude of connection points on its back. Together with the transceiver, I also retrieved a small bag of cables and adapters. Back at the console, I searched the sides of the column for access ports and, after removing a faceplate labeled "maintenance," found some.

"Ahh, found you," I exclaimed. "Generic Access Bus. Well, it's not the newest standard, but I have an adapter for that."

I took the adapter out and connected it to the transceiver, then inserted the other end in the console and turned the transceiver on.

"Connection to transceiver established, negotiating protocol," came out of my earpiece as soon as Max detected the transceiver.

I pressed the transceiver to the metal of the faceplate, and with a metallic "chunk," it magnetized itself to the surface.

"Negotiation complete, successful interface with the console, sir," said Max.

"Perfect," I said, as I stood back up and took a look at the display. "Maintenance Mode" was now displayed at the top of the screen and it seemed that some hidden functions were also now available.

"What can you tell me about the Station so far, Max?" I asked. Max could analyze the data much faster than I ever could, so instead of looking it up myself, it was easier to ask him.

"This Console has only limited access to the Station, and without the main system, I can only analyze local logs, sir," was his response. "It seems that this station has been abandoned for at least 50 years. The construction is dated to 2934, and the main power went offline in 2968. Since then, only emergency power and minimal life support has been maintained. But the last ship undocked in 2943."

That is strange. Did they leave the station running on purpose or did they just forget to shut down the main power system? If that is true, 25 years without a refuel is shorter than I expected. Normally, without a crew that consumes resources, a station could run on a full fuel tank for more than 70 years. Well, maybe the tank was already empty or there was a system failure.

"Max, can you route power to the sections I am in?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir. I should also be able to send more than emergency power to the station now," he responded.

"That's good. Can you do that without activating the main system, in case it's booby-trapped or something?" I asked.

"Affirmative, sir. I can isolate the main system from the main power systems to prevent it from starting," Max explained.

"Do that," I commanded.

"Affirmative, power-up initiated, sir,"

A second later, the whole room began to hum as the environmental pumps came back to life and the lights turned on. I felt a gust of air, and the smell of old socks disappeared.

"Great. Keep an eye on the systems and notify me if something is not as expected, Max. I'll take a look into the next sections," I said.

"Affirmative, sir,"

Three hours later, I was tired. I had walked the whole outer perimeter of the current deck and found next to nothing. There were some more docking bays, but mostly empty or nearly empty storage hangars. I looked into the few boxes and crates I found, but they only contained long-lost emergency rations or spare parts for devices I had never heard of.

There were four rooms that looked more like offices, and based on the map Max had sent me, they were indeed offices for the loadmasters.

"Alright, Max. I think that's it for now. I'll get something to eat and then sleep a bit. You keep an eye out for anything unusual," I said as I walked through the airlock back into my ship. "Ah, also, secure the airlock. I don't expect anyone, but better safe than sorry."

"Affirmative, sir," Max responded. At the same time, the security clamps locked into the inner airlock door. If someone now wants to get in, they would need a plasma cutter.

—

I shed my combat gear and headed to the kitchen. As I prepared dinner, my thoughts drifted to HERMES - specifically, the "HER" part. "Human Engineering Research." What could that mean?

Cybernetics? No, they have existed even before the station was built, but they are mostly used by the rich. There are cheaper options and of course, the black market.

Gene editing? Perhaps, but it is highly illegal. Even simple gene filtering and removal of genetic diseases is only allowed in extreme cases. I know this because my parents tried to remove my birthmark through gene editing before I was born, but I still have it.

Stopping aging? There are many wealthy individuals who never want to die and can afford expensive treatments. The average life expectancy is over 100 years, making it difficult for those in lower economic classes. However, the rich can maintain good health for nearly their entire life.

Full-body cloning? Also illegal, but it seems like the most logical next step. Currently, it's possible to clone organs like the liver or heart, but not the full body or brain.

After finishing my dinner, I made my way to the bathroom, which was more like a walk-in closet with just enough space for a shower, toilet, and sink. I stripped down and added my clothes to the wash pile in the corner. Next, I filled a small cup with green nanotech mouthwash and swished it around in my mouth. The nanobots would search for and destroy any harmful bacteria, while also using the calcium in the mouthwash to repair damaged teeth. I felt a slight tickle on my tongue while sitting on the toilet, and after two minutes, I spat the solution into the sink and rinsed with water to wash away the metallic taste.

As I moved to the shower, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I never paid much attention to my appearance, but today, I felt the urge to inspect myself more closely. I stepped closer and looked at my face - short brown hair, brown eyes, average. I ran my hand over my chin and felt the stubble of my beard. "I need to shave tomorrow," I thought, hating the process and my beard. Hair removal was expensive, and the nanobots often turned out to be a scam. I looked down at my chest and belly - a few extra kilos, man-boobs, a beer belly, and more hair. My manhood was where it was supposed to be, also average. I hated all the body hair. All in all, I looked the same as I had for the past five years - medium height, slightly overweight, and a bit unhappy with my appearance, but not enough to change it.

I stepped into the shower and enjoyed the hot water on my skin for a few minutes until the first 20 liters were filtered and reused. Although I had a substantial water supply on the ship, using more than 20 liters for a shower seemed excessive. After cleaning myself, I stepped out and dried myself with a towel from the rack. I looked back at the mirror - wet hair, stubble beard, chest hair, still the same. I shook off the self-pity and put on my underwear, leaving the bathroom and entering my cabin. It was a small space with a bunk on one side and a closet on the other. I usually only slept here, so there was no reason for it to be larger. I crawled into bed, rolled myself into the blanket, and drifted off to sleep, saying, "Goodnight, Max."