“Doesn't she know that's a rerun? It was on a week before we left,” Sprite said nastily for his ears only. Irons snorted softly but kept loading his washer. It was a simple machine, aluminum with a round door and a dial control.
Washers and dryers could be separate machines or all built into one. He, like a lot of engineers, was on the fence about that. Take for instance this machine. It was a multipurpose model, designed to not only wash the clothing but bombard it with ultrasonics to break up any stubborn stains or clumps. It also had a fast drying feature. Hopefully it was tuned, the last time he'd used one that wasn't had been disastrous for his load of uniforms.
“Apparently not,” he sub vocalized. He sat down to wait as the washer kicked on.
“Not going anywhere?” Sprite asked.
“Would you want to with someone messing with my stuff? This was completely random. I'd like to keep it that way,” Irons replied quietly.
A commercial came on and the woman turned. “Oh. It's you.” She shook her head. “Sorry Admiral.” She wasn't that wrinkled, just some crows feet and some smile lines. She was obviously spry enough to continue working. He nodded politely to her.
Most people didn't realize that taking work from an older person was a mixed blessing. Sure it lightened their load, gave them a break. But it also made them feel redundant and helpless. Like they were a constant burden on their families and on society. It also made them bored and without the regular exercise of work they tended to lose muscle tone quickly and gain weight.
He'd found that the spacers in this time period took a dim view of those who couldn't work. It wasn't anything personal, it was a matter of survival. If a person couldn't contribute to their own survival and the survival of the community then they were shunned or rejected. He'd heard a few stories of some communities going so far as to euthanize a person if they became critically injured or disabled. That was sickening.
At least here this woman was not only contributing, but with his help they'd change that draconian policy. Access to modern medicine would go a long way to help there. She wasn't eligible for some geriatric treatments but some of the others would add decades if not an extra century to her life.
Which was good. She like many of the older folks had a storehouse of wisdom and knowledge that they could pass on to others in so many different ways.
Irons shrugged. “No problem. I didn't want to disturb you, but I had a free moment and wanted to get this chore done before I forgot,” he grimaced theatrically. “Again.” He waved his hands airily.
“Oh,” the woman blinked then smiled. “It's an honor to meet you sir,” she said and then she blushed.
Irons nodded, smiling. “I'm surprised you're not running for the door.”
“Oh I caught the entire thing on Mr. Knox's show.”
“You did?” Irons asked surprised. “How?”
“He uploaded it to the ship as we left. I guess the bridge kept it under lock and key till we were out of the system cause they needed the system to concentrate on the jump and all. Well, that and you locked the system up with your own recordings,” she said with a smile and then shrugged. “Least that's what Maddy said.”
“Oh,” Irons nodded. “Okay,” he shrugged the amusement off. He had no idea who Maddy was. Most likely crony of the laundry woman. Perhaps a coworker? He shrugged the questioning thought off. It didn't matter.
“I can't believe you let them run you out though,” she huffed.
“It was that or let twenty thousand innocent men, women, and children die. I couldn't do that. There has been enough death.”
“Oh,” she blinked and then frowned. “Yes, that was mentioned. But wouldn't the colony have handled the sudden depressurization?”
“I wasn't about to take that chance,” Irons grimaced. “It's old. Materials break down with age. Wear and tear, sun and heat exposure.” He shook his head. “Besides, by the time something did kick in, if it did, a lot of people would have died or been injured.”
“Oh. Well, that's true.” She nodded. “Age, tell me about it,” she said, rubbing her hands. “These old hands aren't what they used to be. I used to type. Then I just couldn't. My fingers just became so hard to move and painful.” She shook her head. “Just awful.”
“That's terrible. Is there anything the doctors can do?” he asked conversationally.
“Well, they don't have all that miracle stuff you did, but the docs on Pyrax set me up with some fish oil stuff and some exercises and treatments to help out. It's working cause here I am,” she smiled holding her hands up. “They don't have much call for a secretary, so I signed on where I could. I've always wanted a cruise. See a little more of the galaxy than four walls and a spread sheet.”
“I can't blame you ma'am, everyone deserves a vacation. And a chance to see the galaxy is a hard thing to pass up,” Irons smiled as he pulled his load and started to fold it.
“Give it time Admiral. Most people will see the truth eventually. Those that act like horses asses will regret it. Most of them. Them that are that way naturally are another story.”
He had to snort and smile at that.
She nodded, folding another load. In the back corner a chute opened and a bag fell into a bin. She grimaced. “My, my.” She shook her head tisk tisking. “One little stain and they got to go have me wash it. I just washed this yesterday!” she said, pulling a top out.
“Well, good night ma'am,” Irons said, tucking his duffel under one arm.
“Oh, leaving? Good night,” she waved and went back to the load.
Chapter 8
“And we have break out!” Clarke said triumphantly. People around the rec deck were slapping each other on the shoulders and cheering. Irons snorted softly, watching them celebrate something that was perfectly normal.
He had chosen to be on the rec deck since it was a populated area. It was also one of the few places that had fully functional holographic projectors and a trio of LCD screens behind the bar.
Not that he really needed them of course. If he really wanted to he could see the entire show on his HUD or jack into the ship's net and experience the thrill of break out through his implants.
It was a rush he had to admit, he'd bet Clarke was having all he could do to control himself. Break out was a major thing for those jacked into the ship's sensors, an incredible experience as all your senses were bombarded all at once. He had enjoyed it a few times in his youth before other interests had redirected his attentions elsewhere.
He swirled his drink and leaned back, relaxing. Bailey had given him a bit of a work out in the improvised dojo, but he'd given as good as he'd received. Bailey had tried to hide the limp when they had left. He'd made his goodbyes quickly and was most likely in his office wishing he had stopped by the infirmary. Pride goeth before and after the fall apparently.
Bailey was a character he had to admit. He was busy checking things, or so he said.
Irons had of course done that as well as a chief. Sat in his office or more likely at a station in main engineering and monitored the ship's systems in case of a problem. More than one fault had been picked up on the spot by sharp eyes. It was easier to pick it up in the earlier stages before it became a serious problem.
He looked around the bar. He had plenty of space around him, most of the room had off duty personnel or the civilian passengers. Most of them were shooting him the occasional dirty look that he ignored. He wasn't sure if they were annoyed by his presence or annoyed that he hadn't said anything to them that would allow them to snub him with a put down.
The bar was nice, a simple metal affair going along the longest wall of the square room. A food replicator was tucked into the corner. A simple beverage dispenser was next to it.
Patrons sat at the round tables around the room or bellied up to the bar on a bar stool like he was doing. He had his foot on the brass foot rest and one hand on the brass railing. He could feel the ship's sublight engines kick and then thrum through the contact.
&nbs
p; “ETA to Agnosta III one week folks. We're getting there so be patient,” the skipper said over the groans. Irons had to snort at that. Some people still thought you could cross a star system in an hour or two. It didn't work that way in sublight drive. If light took a week to cross a system and they were traveling at less than half that speed... he shook his head, getting out of that mental rut.
“Yes Admiral?” The captain turned as the wardroom hatch opened.
Irons paused and then nodded politely to the High elf executive officer as she passed. She had ivory white skin, smooth and unblemished. There were blue highlights here and there, accents most likely programmed into her genetics. Her thirty centimeter long blue tipped ears twitched in his direction as she passed but she gave no other sign of his presence as she left the room.
High elves were a strange group. Back before Elves, the alien species called elves had been found they had become a subspecies of humanity. A group of gamers and fantasy enthusiasts had gene engineered themselves and their progeny into the elf format.
They were wiry thin, but had incredible strength and hearing. They had been engineered over the generations to be stronger, faster, and longer living than normal humans. Over time however the generations had become enthralled with microgravity living, extending their life spans within space habitats or augmenting themselves with cybernetics.
A few of the elves, a subset had gotten back into gaming over time while exploring their roots. They had taken it to the extreme though, either terraforming colonies into the ideal forest elf habitat or retreating from reality into a virtual world called the dream realm.
Some were flighty, a common problem with high elves . They also tended to be aloof from interaction with the so called muggles of the rest of civilization. The exec however broke from the mold apparently.
He hadn't had much contact with the exec, he was wondering if that was an over sight he should remedy sometime. She seemed on the ball but distant. He nodded as she flicked a glance over her shoulder and touched the hatch button to close the door behind her.
He turned to the captain and smiled. “I was wondering if I could step out for a few hours and do some shopping?”
“Um...” the captain looked confused. He shook his head after a moment. “Come again?”
“I... here,” Irons concentrated and felt Sprite open a channel to the brand new holo projector on the captain's desk. Something Irons himself had replicated only the day before. After a second it lit and the lights dimmed. A view of the system appeared and then the heliosphere was highlighted, then their location blinked. Their course was plotted with a dotted line to the habitable planet's orbit.
“Yes? You want to go out? I can't see the reason why...”
“For this.” He pointed. The view zoomed in to the ship and then rocks around them were highlighted. “I'd like to pick a few rocks up. Like, oh say this one.” He touched a rock and the image focused on that. It expanded to fill the holo. A tumbling dirty rock was shown. After a moment lines appeared, pointing various elements out.
The captain stared at it for a long moment before turning to Irons with the obvious question. “A rock?”
“Not just any rock captain, it's got water in it. Trapped in pockets. It's not quite an ice ball like a comet, but it should serve our purposes.” He'd scanned the rock and estimated about two hundred tons of useable water ice on it. A drop in the bucket for the ship but an ample opportunity to pique interest in the practice of picking up the odd rock or two while in transit.
“An ice ball,” the captain rubbed his chin. “Fuel?” he said after a moment, catching on. He slowly smiled.
“And materials. I think I can manage three, maybe four trips before we get out of range. That rock is a bit much to bring in with the launch, but if you want to send some of your own people out to help we could load up everything they can carry. If they work with me we could wrangle the entire thing back here.”
“I... all right, I see your point,” the captain nodded and clasped his hands. “When do you want to go?” Getting Irons off the ship would go over well for some. It would also make the assassin think twice about how to get to him.
“As soon as possible captain. The next window is in thirty minutes.”
“Twenty nine point four minutes and counting down actually,” Sprite interjected.
The captain nodded and adjusted the hem of his jacket. “Very well, get it done.”
“Thank you captain,” Irons said feeling some relief. He turned to go.
“And Admiral...” he turned back at the captain's voice. “Why did you keep this to yourself?”
“I didn't want our saboteur to know until the last minute.”
The captain's face froze for a long moment before he spoke. “Ah, good point. You're certain we have one?”
“Very.”
The captain didn't look at all happy about that. He'd hoped that it had been all random acts. The poisoning though... “I'll have Ed secure the boat bays and keep a keen eye on the proceedings then.”
“Thank you captain,” Irons said as the door opened.
“Why are we doing this again?” Sprite asked as he looked out the main window to the rock slowly tumbling in front of them.
Irons checked the read outs. The rock was tumbling ever so gently. They were matching course and direction with it now. It hadn't taken him long to get the launch out and in space. Bailey had offered to go with him but he'd waved the offer off. He didn't need an audience. Having an extra hand would have been nice, it would have allowed him to train someone, but Bailey's job was in central engineering, not out on a shuttle wrangling ice and rock. He smiled. “We need fuel remember?”
“We can get that at the planet right?” Sprite didn't sound like she was going to let go of this easily.
“True.” He was a little busy keeping an eye on the display and the various gauges. His hands were on the control yoke. He didn't need to have hands on, he could have used his implants. But he was enough of a pilot to prefer the tactile contact over control with his implants. Sure you felt the ship through the implants but he also felt it with his hands and feet as well.
“This seems rather risky to me Admiral. Aren't you concerned about the saboteur?”
“No, like I told the captain, I left it to the last minute for that reason. That and well, I thought that I would be busy. Since I'm not...”
“Um...”
“I had planned on rebuilding the hyperdrive. But the captain wants to hold off on that until we're closer in system. In other words, until we're committed and there is no going back.”
“Oh.”
“I can see his point, I wouldn't want my drive in pieces if there is a pirate lurking about. We can't be sure we got them all. One might be trailing behind.”
She frowned. “That is true.”
“I'd like to see if we can skim off some of the materials for a few projects of my own. Call it payment for services rendered.”
“I'll make a note of that Admiral. Also skim off some of the fuel for the launch as well,” she said dryly. He grimaced. He'd almost completely forgotten about that factor. He'd gotten into using the resources of the military and having ample supply. Not to mention not having to pay someone else for it. Having someone to pump it for him too for that matter. His eyes darted to the fuel gauge. No, he was fine.
“Do you think there will be an attack?”
“Pirates? Not likely,” he snorted. “Oh you mean by our assassin? Doubtful. We're under a microscope right now. Everyone in the ship is talking about this right?”
“Yes.”
“And the entire crew is watching us like a hawk. Since we're in our own craft they can't tamper with it.”
“They could leave us behind Admiral. Stranded.”
“I think Bailey would have something to say about that. And you for that matter,” he retorted.
“True.”
After a moment she seemed to shrug and then release the argument. “So what are th
ese plans you mentioned? You haven't run anything by me...”
“You've been busy. But I was thinking along these lines...”
The captain grimaced as he watched Miss Willis and Mayfair. Both had to be on hand when he contacted Agnosta. He'd spent five meetings and twelve hours over the past two weeks agonizing over what he was going to say. They had nitpicked it down to where he would pause and breath he thought acidly, watching them fidget now.
He'd gotten tired of the rehearsals and repeated changes to the agreed upon script. Enough was enough. He'd had been annoyed when Mayfair had interrupted his lunch yesterday yammering about the speech. He could tell she was nervous but she needed to lighten up a bit. After that he'd spent yesterday dodging the woman. From the report he'd gotten from Clarke who had been manning the afternoon shift the woman had become rather shrill when she'd been told to buzz off by Mr. Chambers.
Ed could be useful sometimes, Ferguson thought with a small smile. Take now for instance. He'd love to have the security chief come in and kick the two busy body women out. Unfortunately he couldn't give in to his baser urges.
He envied Irons. The man was on his launch away from all this hoopla and grand standing. Did he do that deliberately? Ferguson's eyes narrowed. Was he anticipating a screw up? Or did he just want to clear the deck to allow them to proceed unhindered by his shadow? He wasn't sure.
“What's taking so long?” Mayfair asked, looking at the communications officer. The young Gashg blinked at her. He snorted, mucus dribbling from one snorkel nostril. He wiped at it. She made a face and turned slightly away, clearly disgusted.
“It takes time for a message to travel from us to them, for them to receive and process it, and for them to formulate and then send a response Miss.”
“Don't take that condescending tone with me you...”
The captain cleared his throat in warning. “He wasn't condescending he was explaining the situation. Which you should well know Miss Mayfair.”
“We don't even know if they can respond,” Miss Willis interjected, stepping between the two of them as her boss inflated to blow. She shot Mayfair a warning look. The woman seemed to relax and she slowly let out the breath.
Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) Page 13