Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “That's bad,” Irons sat up abruptly, suddenly concerned about an outbreak. The last thing they needed was a major disease. Which... he tried to rally his thoughts as guilt started to set in. He should have anticipated this. Damn it...

  “Tell me about it.” Bryan shook his head. The captain was concerned about exposing their only medic to a possible outbreak. Bryan had been forced to repeatedly explain to the captain that he had been given all his immunization shots before embarking.

  Sprite felt a little exasperation. The doctor clearly needed a fresh perspective. He hadn't bothered to do a scan... no he didn't even have a bot connected to his system! Not even a search engine! How stupid was that? Fortunately she had a solution. The medical texts she had copied over to him had already been indexed. A little programming and a spider bot began to crawl through the remaining files, adding to the index. It would even cross reference material when it was done.

  That solved future problems but not the current one. Sprite did a quick check and found quite a few maladies with similar symptoms. They needed to narrow the field. She picked one that had the highest probability and went with it. “Doctor, is there the presence of a rash or swelling of the spine or brain?” Sprite asked.

  Bryan scowled, ignoring the doctor crack. “Let me check my notes.” He pulled out his tablet, unzipping it from it's cover and dropping the carrying case back into his bag. “Um,” he looked down at it and started to scroll through it.

  “Accessing. Running a word search. I see you copied the notes of several of the medics on the planet. Two mention a rash, one mentions possible brain swelling. I would suggest checking the blood for bacterial or viral infection.” There was a hint of triumph in her voice. She had figured it out after all so she had a right to be smug.

  “Oh?” Bryan asked looking up.

  “Accessing your medical database I've come across one possible subject that encompasses all mentioned symptoms.”

  “Do tell!” Bryan said, hope in his eyes.

  “Terran Meningitis.”

  “Menin... oh my. Oh my.” Bryan shook his head, eyes wide. “How, how could I have missed something so obvious!” he looked down, hand shaking as he scrolled through the database files to the indicated diagnosis.”

  “Easy there Doc, it's just a theory right now. A blood test will confirm or deny it. But I'm curious...”

  “What's the common vector?” Bryan said, looking up. “Sorry, Admiral, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt, but how are they getting this? It's spread across several areas, thousands of square kilometers! Can it be airborne? Did the pirates sow this?”

  “Most likely they got it from drinking the water,” Irons sighed, sitting back. Bryan frowned. “Untreated water has contaminants in it. Things like bacteria and pathogens. That's why people are taught to boil it before drinking it.”

  “Um...”

  “With the rudimentary situation down there, I'm not surprised now that something like this is happening. I am pissed at myself that I missed it,” Irons growled, fists clenching. Nara looked up and then got off his lap, reacting to his distress.

  “You're only human Admiral!” Bryan said in dismay, hand on his arm.

  “Mister Kelley is correct Admiral, you can't think of everything, we are all far from perfect. Stop beating yourself up over this and focus on what needs to be done now. Mister Kelley, the diagnostic tests are rather simple. A rudimentary check for inflammation markers should be a positive indicator if my hypothesis bears out,” Sprite said.

  “Right, right, blood count, C-reactive proteins, and cultures.”

  “To positively rule out Meningitis we need a sample of lumbar fluid from someone who is afflicted. With that you can check for the specific type of pathogen or bacteria and come up with a treatment method.”

  “Right, I'll get on it. Right away.”

  “However, you can suggest to your colleagues on the ground that they overhaul the water treatment and waste treatment methods. Sometimes you organics foul your own drinking water which leads to situations like this.”

  “I... I'm from a station ma'am, so I don't know. We recycle everything.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, according to the literature a broad spectrum antibiotic should help treat the people infected. If they are in the early stages it should kill it quickly. Others will require more intensive treatment.”

  “Thank you. I'll get the tests running now and then call my colleagues on the ground and have them start right away. Right away!” Bryan said getting up and rushing the samples to his small lab.

  “I should have seen it,” Irons said getting up.

  “Quite possibly you did but then focused on the bigger picture,” Sprite said as he blindly left the sickbay. “You're being too hard on yourself. You can't do everything and be everywhere at once Admiral. They do have to learn to stand on their own feet.”

  “I can give them a push can't I?!” he demanded. A passing crewman gave him a bewildered look and then moved on fast. He caught the look and sighed.

  “Admiral...”

  “You're right, I need to put this into perspective. I'm going to double check my notes. See what else I missed,” he growled. “Check everything against survival guidelines, which we should have done in the first place,” he snarled.

  “I'm not perfect either. You know what, I can't talk to you like this. When you're tired and cranky. Admiral, you're exhausted. You're getting yourself worked up over something you have no control over. My suggestion is to get some downtime. Rest and then look at it with fresh eyes. I'll do the comparison. In fact, I've already started and I'll be finished momentarily.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I'll copy the things we missed to your inbox and then I'll order the replicators to fill in the blanks.”

  “Fine,” he sighed.

  Irons frowned at the captain the next morning. “Are you ordering me off your ship captain?”

  “No, not that, I'm just, well, I'm encouraging you to get some down time Admiral.” He'd thought Bailey would have got the Admiral to go down. He wasn't sure why the Admiral wasn't going. Perhaps it was because he was a born spacer. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was worried he'd lose his ride. Ferguson had decided to not allow that.

  When Bailey had told him that Irons hadn't taken the bite he'd called the Admiral in, first thing in the ship's morning, right after his breakfast.

  “I can do that in my room if you want.”

  “I'm saying...” he sighed, paused, and then adjusted his cufflinks. After a moment he looked up. “I'm trying to say get some down time. Go check out the planet. We've pushed back the departure time again since we've got a shuttle down.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Irons asked. He clearly was tired though.

  Ferguson shook his head, amused. Did the man ever take a break? Did he ever think of himself? Apparently not. He knew thought that giving so much of himself away wasn't good. Irons needed some downtime. “No, we've got it covered. Look, I give you my word, we'll be here when you get back. Bailey wont let us budge anyway,” he said amused.

  “I take it Bailey put you up to this?”

  “Among other people,” the captain said with a snort of amusement.

  “Okay, that sounds a bit ominous,” Irons said looking at him.

  The captain spread his hands apart in a disarming motion. “No ill intent. Most of it is from people who know you best and are concerned you're burning yourself out. Which you are. A little rest and recuperation is in order. Bryan is threatening to make it an order if he must.”

  “Okay, I'll go check out the planet.”

  “That's all we ask.”

  “Joy.”

  The captain shook his head. “Don't be such a downer. The ship will be fine and it will be here when you get back. Go see the sights. Go talk to the people. They want to see you too. Custard has been a little put out that you haven't come down.”

  “Okay okay,” Irons said shaking his head, hands raised in surrender. “
I'm going, I'm going.”

  Chapter 13

  Admiral Irons visited the planet a week before they left. He had to, not just to give in to the good natured bullying of his so called friends and subordinates but also for diplomatic reasons, and really for his own peace of mind.

  He'd planned on going down at some point, but the needs of the planet had been best served by his remaining in orbit doing what he could with what he had on hand. He'd managed to wrangle a few more rocks and had been rather busy dealing with them for some time.

  He took his own launch down, bringing a load of broad spectrum antibiotics as well as immunization materials for everything he, Bryan, and Sprite could think of.

  It was a normal drop, nothing really memorable. The skies were a nice shade of blue, pretty. The star port had clear skies, though some thunderheads were gathering on the south eastern horizon.

  He wasn't really interested in the view, he'd seen rustic planets before. He'd seen them as small colonies or badly damaged ones like this one was. He scanned the port. Good, there wasn't going to be any reception committee or party for him. Good. He really didn't want the attention right now. He had more important things to think about.

  Damn it! There he went again, thinking about the long view, about “Important things” when he really should be just relaxing and enjoying the outing. Apparently the others were right, he did need some time off to just unwind.

  He passed over a swamp to land near the growing star port. The port wasn't what it had been, a poor shadow of the original. But it would be better with careful management and investment, he thought, rolling his shoulders.

  Sprite noted a large tree as they descended. She tried to bring it up but he was in the middle of landing and cut her off. Later she went over the file while he was asleep and came to a startled conclusion. When he woke she told him.

  She showed him the footage from the flight camera. He was amused when she pointed out a large hilltop clearing with a giant tree on top. It was near a river, tentacles from the tree ran to the river. He took a sip of coffee, amused at her sudden interest. It wasn't like her to go off on a tangent like this.

  “So?” he asked, disinterested. Alien biota were not his specialty.

  “So? Don't you notice who it is Admiral?” she asked exasperated. She highlighted the giant plant.

  “No. It's over 150 meters tall.” Then her choice of pronoun registered. “What... wait who? What do you mean who?” His brows knit in sudden intent speculation. It couldn't be!

  “It's a Vesuvian Admiral,” Sprite explained excitedly. She pointed out the shape, doing a comparison match from the Encyclopedia Galactica files. “The size of it though, it's immense. Old. Very old. Definitely a mature adult,” Sprite said. She pointed out the insects and wildlife buzzing around the top mouth. Again that was normal for a Vesuvian. They emitted pheromones that attracted insects and other wildlife.

  “Spirit of space!” he looked with fresh eyes, completely surprised and awed. He had her replay the image and enhance it. She cross referenced an adult Vesuvian with the images and got a ninety eight percent match.

  “Damn.” He noted that the normally red petals around it's mouth at the top of the head were shot with purple and yellow instead. “It looks like a giant Denubian dandelion,” he muttered.

  “Adaptation to it's environment or it's malnutrition.”

  “Whatever, let's go take a look,” he said, now very interested in the diversion.

  They went to the clearing in a restored air car. The air car was one of the few remaining on the planet. He had only to ask Jim, the dour farmer for a ride. The farmer had tossed him the keys with a wave.

  The air car was old, and had seen better days. Still it was functional, maintaining a stable hover about a meter off the ground. It was a battered, faded blue pick up truck, something to be expected in a rural setting like this one. Function over fashion was the rule in the rural community.

  He'd taken along a guide, a teen related to Custard who had seemed bored and interested in the diversion at first. Irons had been pretty sure that the teen had been wished on him as a guide to keep the lad out of mischief more than to guide him. Though it might be both reasons.

  He glanced at the lad out of the corner of his eye. Red hair, freckles, yes definitely a relative of Mr. Custard. He had pimples and a gawky adolescent look to him, obviously he was in the early stages of puberty. He was more interested in looking for girls than in showing an out of towner what was what.

  Which suited Irons just fine. He didn't really want a guide. He was curious about how the lad would react when he found out where they were going to. And what would he do when the Vesuvian reacted?

  When he got to the base of the hill his guide warned him off. The kid was pale, eyes locked on the giant tree. “That tree is evil. Any who come near it end up as food,” he grimaced.

  The stamen tentacles were whipping around constantly. Occasionally one would catch a bird or group of insects on it's sticky tip and whip it into the mouth. Irons nodded, craning his neck over the yoke to see it through the dirty windshield. Yes, Vesuvian, definitely an omnivore. Good.

  He pulled up in a relatively flat spot and got out. The kid was really nervous now, adams apple bobbing constantly, sweat beading on his brow.

  He felt a rumble under foot. Sprite translated the subsonics as language, running it through the universal vocoder.

  'Go away,” the deep bass voice told him curtly.

  He spread his hands apart. “I can't do that. Not yet. I believe you are a Vesuvian,” the Admiral immediately replied. Sprite used the force emitters in his legs to create subsonic signals in reply.

  There was a rumble of apparent shock through the alien. Obviously no one had talked to it in centuries. How could he live a life like that? He personally couldn't. Humans were social animals. They went mad without some sort of semi regular social contact. What did the absence do to this alien he wondered warily.

  “You are the first one to notice in centuries. So? Now go away human,” the Vesuvian rumbled. A tentacle lashed out. He let it hit his shields and was knocked back onto his ass, the tree reared back startled. He could hear loud cracks and pops as it moved and shook the tentacle. Hitting the shield would have smarted. Brown and blue moss was coming off the creature and animals that had taken refuge in the moss were taking flight.

  “You... how..? that hurt!” the plant snarled.

  “Probably,” Irons said. Getting back onto his feet he brushed himself off. “I came here to talk.”

  “What is there to talk about human? My species dies with me. My home world is gone,” it moaned softly, then louder and louder.

  The guide and Admiral winced. He waited as the guide covered his ears. When the moaning ebbed he nodded, hands on his hips. “You done feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “You have no concept of...”

  “I'm from your time as well bub,” Irons growled. “My name is Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons of the Federation Navy.”

  The sentient plant quivered in rage. Tentacles lashed out to strike around them. Irons dodged a few. He let one hit the shield and bounce back. It flicked the tentacle in obvious pain.

  “You done? Yes I know you're an adult. And no, you are not the last of your kind. In fact there are four of your kind on the ship I came in. They are in orbit. The ship is about to leave.”

  “You... you lie!”

  “Why would I?” Irons asked, shaking his head. He glared at the tiny light sensors embedded in the flesh of the plant. “I wanted to make sure you were real before I told them. I didn't want to get their hopes up. They had decided to pass on this planet since it isn't as warm as they would like. I can tell them you are here however. But if you would prefer to remain here feeling sorry for yourself, wallowing in your own self pity, that is your choice after all.”

  “Where would I go?” the tree laughed. “Where?”

  “Well, you are a bit big for a starship,” Irons admitted. “At least t
he current ones. I believe your people had larger ships for your people? Colony ships?”

  “All gone. I came here as a child. Centuries ago.”

  “I kinda figured. Before the war?”

  “Yes. I and the others were hired to monitor the biota on this cold miserable excuse for a world... the others that survived died in the long hard winters or the floods that came after the world was bombed ... Only I survived here. Alone in my grief.”

  “Well, you can continue to wallow in it or begin to rebuild. Your people need your wisdom. We need it as well,” Irons said, brushing his thighs off. He cocked his head.

  “What would you have me do?” the plant asked after a long quiet moment of contemplation.

  “Help. I will see if we can get the others on the ship to come down and meet you. Perhaps you can work together with the others on this world to rebuild it. You have abilities the others lack. Knowledge of this land spanning centuries.” He spread his hands indicating the surrounding area. “They can do things with technology that you lack. Together, you may find a brighter tomorrow.”

  “Make your call. And Admiral...”

  Irons turned. “Yes?”

  “Thanks.” He felt a wave of relief in that simple world. It felt good.

  Irons called the ship. He told the captain about the giant Vesuvian. The purser called them in their cabin. They responded with great agitation about the Admiral's involvement, then became intrigued about the old one. They came down to the the planet on the next available shuttle an hour later.

  Irons waited, talking a little with the guide and the Vesuvian until they arrived. When they did they reached out tentacles toward the giant plant. It twined giant hand tentacles out to touch them. Their conversation became so complex Sprite couldn't follow it. He could see the plants trading chemicals through the skin contact. Light, subsonic sound, and chemicals. Fascinating really. At least to a xenobotanist or linguist. Which of course he wasn’t. He turned to the lad. The boy seemed enraptured. Good.

  “We'll leave you to discuss whatever.. catch up,” Irons waved. “You've got a comm link, call us.”