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he didn't need them and
he had his own. Still, it might be a good idea to suggest they invest in a
second set of simple tools to leave in the junkyard.... He shook the thought
off.
    He
was a guest, and he needed to focus on that and not impose. Though he did plan
on repairing some of the things in the household, for his own comfort at least.
No way was he going to go without coffee for long.
    “That's
the last of them,” Jorge said. Irons looked up to see the man winded. “Let me
catch my breath and I'll lend you a hand,” the wounded man suggested. The
Admiral thought frantically as Sprite highlighted the man's temperature.
    “I'm
about done right now, I was planning on taking a lunch break and putting a call
in to Io 11. Why don't I let you know what I did and then we can go eat?” he
suggested. Jorge grunted and nodded wearily. He let himself down onto his crate
stool with a shaky breath.
    “Your
family is very hardy. You must have used suits to use this ship.” The Admiral
waved to the cab. “It can't hold pressure with the damage. The seals around the
door are gone too.” He shook his head.
    Jorge
nodded. “Been that way since my great grandfather's time. Story goes that he
got out to lash a piece of cargo down and then got back in and the cockpit
breached. Luckily he managed to patch his suit into the life support or he
would have been dead before making station.” He waved the crutch and leaned
back with a sigh. “So how is the damage?” he asked looking like he knew the
answer.
    “About
what I said before. Coolant system is gone. Most of the engine will need a
complete rebuild. I am going over the final tally now. I also checked the hull
and frame, there is some minor twist in the lateral arm, but she's sound.  I
can fix the frame damage and box or gusset the weak areas using scrap metal.
Cabin will need to be rebuilt or replaced though,” he waved.
    “Rebuilt
if we can. I think we have a day before the Port Admiral... no offense... sends
his goons,” Jorge replied.
     “Sends
his goons?” The Admiral asked, cleaning a valve with a rag. Proteus reported it
was good he set it down in the salvage pile.
    “Rent.”
Jorge sighed. “We have to pay rent. Space rent he calls it. Everyone has to pay
for the air they breathe, water, power, heat, food, and space they live in.
We've been the primary source of water since he pissed the Oort cloud colonies
off into boycotting us.” Jorge sighed wearily. “The exec, Enrique has been
leaning on us pretty hard till the Port Admiral sent his bully boys around. Now
he's trying to buy us time to get squared away,” he waved to the ship. “Fat
chance of that with the old girl all tore up and with her guts all over the
deck. Damn kid.” Jorge sighed shaking his head.
    “I
should have never let him take her out; he's too green, too impulsive.” He
sighed again, smacking the end of the crutch down. “I should have ridden him
harder but I was laid up for a couple days with a fever.” He shook his head.
    “Anita
traded a few things to get me some antibiotics.” He looked away then shook his
head.
    “You
work double shifts on the station as well?” the Admiral asked.
    “That's
for the food we eat and the some of the power we use. Everything else comes
from this old girl.” He waved to the tug. Irons nodded.
    “Well,
let me go see what I can do about lunch and putting a call through to Io.” He
smiled. He knew better then to offer to help Jorge up. The man's pride and
dignity were something he clung to fiercely. The Admiral nodded. “Shall we?”
Jorge looked at him with a weary eye, and then chuckled as he wrestled himself
upright.
    “I
think Anita left sandwiches in the cooler.” He waved the Admiral forward.
     
    After
a quick lunch he jacked into the system and had Sprite put a call through the
station net to the Io11. He waited patiently after the communications officer,
Julia put him on hold. While he waited he pulled the holo emitter out and