Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Yeah. He may want a challenge or two.”

  “Him, I was talking about me!” the chimp laughed. “I'll see if I can put a bug of my own in his ear. Maybe he'd be good in the yard?” He shook his head. “I bet he'd have a ball setting up computer systems in every ship... at least until it became a routine. Hell who knows. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” the Admiral said with a sigh.

  “What did you want to be when you joined up?” Bailey asked turning back to him. Brown eyes locked onto the Admiral.

  “Me?” Irons snorted. “Believe it or not, a chief engineer. Which I was, briefly,” he shrugged.

  “After my job huh? Figures,” Bailey chuckled. “I'd arm wrestle you for it, but I'm under orders not to strain myself. Sylvia.” He rolled his eyes. The Admiral chuckled.

  “We're seriously looking into the whole shuttle thing by the way,” Bailey said as he got comfortable with Sylvia.

  “Really?” Sylivia asked amused.

  “Figure out what you want to build yet? A racer?” Irons asked amused. He toyed with the stem of his cup.

  Brown eyes rolled expressively at the thought. That idea had made the rounds with the pilots and helmsman this morning. The crew was going nuts over the idea of building something like Irons seemed to be doing. “Perish the thought. Or the pilot who tries to fly the damn thing. No, I was thinking simple. Start simple, a basic craft, utilitarian then go from there.”

  “A workpod?” Irons asked.

  Bailey seemed to consider the idea, rubbing his chin for a moment before Sylvia batted his hand away. “Yeah. I've been going over those launch plans you uploaded. It's nice but damn complicated,” Bailey admitted, rubbing the back of his head with one hand sheepishly.

  “True,” Irons nodded as Sylvia stroked Bailey's arm. He smiled down at her briefly. “What about a tug?” Irons asked. He was going to give them the robot tug but it worked better if it worked in unison with another craft.

  “Um...”

  “Think about making a tug. Or a space dock.”

  “Wait!” Bailey laughed, shaking his head. “You're getting ahead of yourself there John! A dock?”

  “Sure? Why not? You can build spacepods or tugs and sell them. Satellites too. Or even inflatable habitats for stations. Station cores. Truss sections are easy, it's a simple extruder and a bit of work with some hand tools. Get enough going with the right reputation and you're golden. Even the people in Pyrax will buy them.”

  “True,” Bailey said nodding.

  “Solar power to answer your next question. Solar power is cheap, readily available and isn't proscribed,” Irons said, beating the chimp to the question. “You can sell panels to the planets you visit as well.”

  “What are we talking about?” Charlie Notuma asked, turning around. “Selling is my business.”

  “True,” Sylvia said shooting the boys a look.

  “He's got us there,” Irons said with a shrug. She smiled again, eyes twinkling. He cleared his throat. “We're talking about the Destiny hobby project that's been brooded about. The crew want to make something in their off time. Either for their own use or to sell.”

  “Ah.” Charlie rubbed his chin. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Right.”

  “We'd have to charge for power and resources. Fab time.”

  “Oh give me a break,” Bailey said exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air and shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “Charge for that, we charge for labor and we're running in circles,” the chimp said disgusted.

  “He's got a point,” Irons said. “You can work it out amongst yourselves later. “But as for projects, a dock or station is a simple thing. Or at least it can be. Airlock nodes, a core module, truss frame, solar panels, and inflatable habitats. Just make sure you build it in a space you can get it out of.”

  Bailey turned brown eyes on the Admiral. He stared at him and then his face began to broaden into a smile. Irons watched the wheels turn in the chimp's head. The things Irons had described were all possible without hitting a lock out in a replicator. Most were easy things that could be made in batches. “Sure, we can do that. Simple.”

  “Bingo. Do a couple, and you can make custom modules, or add ons in time. You can also do satellites, since you've got the design specs now.”

  “We do?” Charlie asked surprised.

  “I made a few for Agnosta remember?” Sprite asked.

  “Ahem, we...”

  “We made them, right,” Sprite said. “I stand corrected.”

  “So, you can build simple things and then expand on them,” Irons said as the purser rubbed his jaw.

  “Where do we get the material?” he asked giving the Admiral a look.

  “Take your pick, you can trade it, or you can harvest it from asteroids in the systems. Either way works.”

  “I kind of like harvesting rocks and then selling the finished materials back to them,” the purser said with a small smile.

  “You would,” Bailey said snorting.

  “It's a thought. You can find a list of stuff and ideas on the net. Sprite?”

  “Yes Admiral? You want me to CC them a bookmark list? Already done.”

  “Thanks,” he said. Sylvia giggled a little. He smiled to her.

  Chapter 29

  At Triang, the ship settled into orbit before it delivered its last delegates and refugees. The system, like many others was hit hard by the war, but the people had managed to survive and bring their civilization up to mechanical farming. Unlike many other agricultural colonies Triang had most of it's centralized population underground in the old bomb shelters of the Xeno war. Only small villages, two dozen or so people in each, were scattered over the surface and easily accessible to the pirates.

  The largest underground city on Triang also had an old mark four planetary defense cannon mounted on a mountain nearby. The mark four drew power from the bunker's elderly but still serviceable power network. With that and the fact that their major populations were buried under mountains it was no surprise that the pirates had mostly passed Triang by.

  Triang was the center of a growing trade route, and surviving inhabited systems were nearby, so freighters like the Kiev and Io 11 made regular circuit passes. Mister Notuma negotiated and paid the landing fees and they were given the coordinates of a small rustic colonial village that served as the planet's space port.

  Destiny's crew gave them a download of the events in Pyrax and their travels and were besieged by reporters wanting interviews for newspapers when they made planet fall.

  “That interested in us?” Sprite asked, sounding amused and curious.

  “It's a small colony Sprite, be glad that they are interested in the outside universe at all. And a free press element! That's something I didn't anticipate,” Irons smiled at that development. It was both good and bad. Good in that it was there and thriving, but bad if word ever got back about his little problem.

  “Apparently the shelters let them hang on to a semblance of their centralized government and constitution. From the looks of things they have reinvented paper making and news print.”

  “Or it was here all along. There might have been a regressive element here from even before the war. A back to basics colony or tourist trap like Briev.”

  “Um...” Sprite accessed the encyclopedia files on the colony. “Accessing. Okay, the entry is nonspecific. Agricultural world, lightly industrialized, population is focused on green sustainable energy and resource use.”

  “Paper?” he asked amused.

  “Trees can be replanted Admiral.”

  “True.”

  “They had a strict population control method prior to the war, more of an ethic than a totalitarian law like communist China had in the twentieth and twenty first century Earth time period.”

  “Interesting. Anything else?”

  “No, the standard links to agricultural worlds. Major export was grains, legumes,
mushrooms, and medicinal herbs. They had a growing brewery at one point.”

  “Huh,” Irons grunted disinterested.

  “In other words, not a candidate.”

  “Oh it is, but not as a core world. Seed yes, with the free press and light industry, those factors alone will help it. It's proximity to Pyrax and it's location on a trade route are also good for it. But no, no space based industry, no air travel...”

  “They are interested in the outside galaxy but not interested in venturing out into it.”

  “Right. Home bodies.”

  Charlie Notuma scowled as he watched the shuttle coming up. He'd had to pay a bundle for fuel, more than he would have liked. The system lacked an asteroid belt, and the heliopause materials had been so diffuse they'd a lot of it passed by. What Irons had brought in hadn't helped much, it had just covered the cost of fuel for the shuttles and power for his damn replicators. Which was sucking the ship dry. He was using them constantly, he'd apparently built another pair and was running through everything he'd brought on board.

  Since they hadn't refueled in Briev they had needed the fuel badly. They were going to need a lot of it because they were going to have to bypass Briev again on their way home.

  Now he was paying for it. It would be all right, they'd still make a profit, but he'd have to have a talk with the captain about limiting how much stores they took on. That was if he could get Irons to curtail some of his replicating. The good news was that the Admiral would be gone soon. He wasn't so sure it really was good news in the end though. He felt a little lost at the idea. Sure Irons was an idealist, a pain in the ass, and that assassin was scaring the bejebers out of everyone. But he was also an honorable man who had bailed them out repeatedly. He was also the only one with replicator key codes... something Charlie of all people appreciated. Irons was a treasure. He was fairly certain people in Pyrax were shitting themselves now that they realized it. When the ramifications of Irons being the only one left with the key codes hit... He didn't want to think about it.

  “Interesting place. If you like rat traps,” Sprite said with a sniff as he admired the log cabin building. Most of the buildings were like that, cabins of one design or another or Old American Western style store fronts. He wondered about the logic of it. Most were Terran design of course, which was again odd. You'd think a veraxin or other alien architect would have had a hand in some of the designs.

  Of course it did look a great deal more colorful than Briev. Sure most of the colors were browns, but they'd painted some places like the general store in yellow. Others like the healer had the ancient red cross with a white background. A fish monger had a blue store with stylized fish painted all over the building. It was the first sign of some form of painted art Irons had seen on all three planets.

  “It has it's rustic charm,” he said with a smile, nodding to people that passed. A few looked at him in interest, others in indifference. They were dressed in rustic clothes, the men wore simple brown slacks and white tops. The women wore skirts or shapeless dresses of various colors. Both genders wore hats, some wore top hats, others stetsons or fur caps. The women had their hats and bonnets adorned with flowers and feathers. It was another fresh breath of freedom of expression.

  He looked around, trying to hide a scowl. He wanted to remain open and friendly despite the Pyrax delegates getting down ahead of him. He was concerned about the gag order, wondering if Notuma had been good to his word. Notuma could try but he had no control of people and what they said off the ship. Someone might have been spiteful enough to say something anyway.

  He'd taken the time to come down anyway, he had to kill time and being stuck in the ship was a pain. Even he got cabin fever after a while. Bailey had lent him a hand loading up his launch so he could come down with some goods and tech to pass out. So far he hadn't had much luck.

  “Rusty you mean. Tetanus anyone?” Sprite snorted.

  “Hush,” he sighed. He noted a family on the sidewalk. A human family, a woman and two kids. The women were dressed in dresses or skirts. The woman pulled her children close then led them across the street to the other sidewalk, head in the air. He shook his own head. So much for Charlie Notuma's word on the subject.

  “I take it the locals were warned about me?” he asked softly under his breath.

  “I have no idea. There wasn't anything mentioned in the communications between ship and shore. But judging by their behavior I would think it is a distinct possibility Admiral,” Sprite responded sounding more than a little disgusted. He noted a few rough looking characters talking down the street. “I would suggest moving on soon so you don't draw a mob.”

  “Good idea,” he sighed going over to the saloon. He passed through the double doors then nodded to the heavy weight proprietor behind the counter.

  “We're closed,” the man growled, rubbing at a table with a rag. Irons looked around to see others in the restaurant bar. It was relatively clean, with brass fittings that had been polished frequently.

  “Interesting,” he said noting the I love me wall. He went over to and examined the photos. Most were old and faded. Some were wrinkled, curled or partially burnt. His enhanced eyes picked out the images in the dark room anyway.

  “You deaf or something?” the man growled. Irons looked back to see the bartender. He had his hands on his hips. A kid peeked out under a table.

  “No, I just heard about your wall and wanted to check it out,” the Admiral replied turning back to the wall. He made sure to get a good look, recording it all.

  “See anyone you know Admiral?” Miss Willis asked from the back of the bar.

  “A few,” he admitted, surprised by her presence.

  “How could he know them? Thought he was the Admiral in Pyrax?” the bartender asked, wiggling his classic mustache.

  “The Admiral is a sleeper. He's the real deal,” Miss Willis said, getting up and coming over to the wall. She leaned against a rail, crossing her arms. “A lot of memories here.”

  “Yes,” Irons sighed. “That there are.” He shook his head. “I see Billy and Davy there. They were JGs on my staff before the war. Two other people I recognize who served with me. One I think is Faith. I'm not sure. I'll have to have Sprite do a visual comparison later to be sure.”

  “Ah. You can see them that well?” the bartender asked curious, coming over. He tossed the bar rag onto his shoulder and wiped his hands with his stained apron. The guy was a good size, two meters tall with a slight girth on him but broad strong shoulders. He probably served as his own bouncer.

  “Yes. The Admiral has implants. He can see just fine. Can't you Admiral?” Miss Willis said amused. She smiled a whimsical smile his way. Irons turned to her then to the bartender.

  “That so?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Think you're stronger than Benny over there?” the bartender asked, pointing to a broad heavy worlder sitting on a bar stool. The broadly muscled guy turned and glared.

  “I think I can manage,” Irons smiled. He picked up a wrought iron poker near the fire place and twisted it into a pretzel without a sweat. The bartender blinked, eyes wide.

  “Let me see that,” Benny said. He held out a meaty hand. Irons tossed it to him. He tried to unbend the metal but gave up. He dropped it shaking his hand and rubbing his bicep.

  The Admiral went over and picked up the pretzel then straightened it. He used his fingers to get the last of the bend out. Even Benny was impressed with that sight. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Can I buy him a beer anyway?”

  “Why?” the bartender asked, suddenly confused.

  “Good effort,” Irons shrugged. Benny looked to the barkeep. The man sighed.

  “I suppose so,” he said and shook his head. “How you going to pay? We ain't got electronic banking here.”

  The Admiral smiled a little and fished a gold piece out of his pocket. “Will this do?” he asked. One of the things he'd held back in his asteroid mining had been gold. He'd cast them into bars with th
e image of the Federation flag on them. It wasn't quite counterfeiting but it did make him a little uncomfortable when he thought about trying to explain it to a Federation DA sometime. Hopefully the statute of limitations would run out by then. The way civilization was shaping up that would be an easy bet. The man's eyes lit at the glitter. Typical, Irons thought.

  “Sure, sure!” he nodded. He took the piece then went into the back. After a moment he came back,followed by a woman, she was rather plain, and broad. Her brown hair was french braided down her back to her rear.. Irons nodded politely to her. The bartender went over and poured a tap for Benny, then another for Irons. The beer looked a little flat.

  “We're having trouble with the still again,” she murmured as the Admiral took a sip. He grimaced. The beer was warm, and didn't have much of a head. It wasn't quite love in a small boat beer but it was better than the drinking water most likely. Which was why small colonies drank it more than water.

  He'd read about that. It went back in time, a historian had pointed out the connection in one of his college classes. The fermentation of alcoholic beverages helped to kill the bacteria and bugs that were in the water. But small colonies that lacked refrigeration had a storage problem. The beer went flat or bad in hot weather or in less than three standard days.

  Just about everyone drank beer, even the kids. It was the only way to keep from getting sick from something in the water. Of course it led to all sorts of health issues... not to mention social issues.

  “What's the problem?” he asked after another sip. They looked at him. “Sorry, couldn't help overhearing.”

  “Not that it's any of your business,” Benny growled.

  “Don't be that way. The Admiral is an engineer. He can fix anything. Right Admiral?” Chief Bailey said, coming into the bar. The natives looked at him in surprise. The double doors were high enough so the chief could have ducked under them if he had wanted to do so. “I need a beer. He's buying right Admiral?” He slapped Irons on the back.