Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) Read online

  Two years and seven centuries ago he'd been fighting for the Federation against the Xenos. Both civilizations were locked in mortal combat with each other, both knew that there could be only one victor. The fallen would be vanquished, his star systems wiped away as if they'd never existed. No one would remember them.

  He'd been in transit when his ship had been ambushed in the Senka system, a couple of jumps up the chain from here. He'd been lucky to have made it into a stasis pod. Lucky... yeah, he snorted softly. Some wouldn't really call it luck.

  While he had slept civilization had obliterated itself. Both sides had thrown their best and brightest at the other and watched in growing rage as they were consumed and then their stars were torn apart. Hell weapons of every sort had been used, the stuff of nightmares. Nanotech, planet busters and finally Nova bombs.

  That was his own personal hell, his own contribution to the destruction of a once thriving civilization. The Nova bomb hadn't been his concept but it had come to fruition by the sweat of his brow and the brows of many of the scientists and engineers who had served under him.

  And they had used it. In their desperation the Federation had used the damn thing, wiping out entire star systems, lowering itself to the Xenos' level. After all, how could they not? There was no way to win a war of survival by fighting on the defensive and giving your opponent all the advantages. He'd understood that. He hadn't liked it, he hadn't liked what it was costing them... but he had understood it.

  He'd awoken to a dsytopian, post apocalyptic hell. What was left after the core systems had been annihilated by the gravitational fury of a star's death throws was the dregs. The battered survivors who were scattered and alone in their misery. The best and brightest had died in the war. Most of the surviving star systems had been leveled in the fighting before the Nova bombs had been used.

  Most of the survivors had learned a cruel lesson afterward. The technology that sustained them needed people like him, people with the keys to keep itself functional and self sustaining. In other words without people like him, people who had been used up in the war, there was no one left to rebuild.

  He'd been shocked by that. That not one engineer with the keys had survived. None of the system governors had the keys either apparently. Their own losses had broken the thin chain.

  The keys had been tightly restricted to protect society. Now that rightful paranoia had been societies undoing. Without the keys the survivors were left to scratch an existence out of their surroundings with whatever they had available. They got to watch as their equipment slowly died under the load over time.

  Most of the planets had fallen back into a dark age, fallen back to a bare existence. Many of the colonies hadn't been prepared for it. Skills had been lost. Basic skills like survival and farming. Medicine had been in short supply. Thousands with other skills had died from starvation and from the various plagues that had cropped up over the centuries.

  But some had clawed their way up through the darkness towards the light. They weren't quite there, most weren't even at the early steam level of technology yet. But they were getting there. Slowly.

  The women who had saved him, the crew of the Io 11 had been a pain in the ass at first. It had been amusing and a little bewildering to view them, dressed in rather provocative clothing and trying to manage a ship with only on the job training. Most could barely read! Some had no ability to read and were doing menial tasks as they tried to cope.

  He'd had a hell of a time integrating with them, mainly due to his gender. Apparently most of them were refugees from the New Dublin system. New Dublin had established a draconian parochial society, one that considered women as chattel slaves to be used and abused by any male however they wanted. The captain had gathered them up after finding the derelict Io 11 and restored the ship to semi functional status so they could make an escape from the system. They'd spent the past few years bumming around the sector as a tramp freighter.

  He'd been picked up because they had saw the potential of selling him to the highest bidder. The skills of sleepers were highly valuable. The crew's morals left a lot to be desired apparently, they didn't really care how they did something, just as long as it benefited them. He had woken and thwarted those plans. Fortunately for all involved pirates were trying to kill them at the time. His efforts to save them had saved the ship, endearing him into their limited good graces.

  He'd spent the time on board repairing the ship and training the crew. At first it had been out of an interest in taking over. Io 11 had been a fleet tender after all, she was a fleet ship. She belonged with fleet and should be returned to service. But as he'd gotten to know the little community on the ship an alternative plan had presented itself.

  He'd repaired her hyperdrive just to further endear himself to the captain and her crew and to keep from tearing his hair out as they bumbled along at the lowest octaves of the alpha band. It had been maddening trying to get anything done at that speed.

  Sprite and the other AI had lent their own vast knowledge and skills to rebuilding the ship and restoring her to her past glory. On the way the crew had been infected with some of his thoughts and actions. His generosity, not just with them but with planets they had visited had rubbed off a little here and there.

  He hadn't been the only male on board, there had been three others. He'd found out that two of the young men had been shanghaied, the doctor and a junior pilot. Another had been a wandering con artist who had been enslaved by the captain and served as a jester of sorts.

  Sprite had for the first time spawned a child of her own. He was proud of her for it. Io would do well with the crew. The smart AI would help run the ship and hopefully be able to complete some of his plan. She would hopefully keep them on the straight and narrow now. Hopefully.

  They had left him in Pyrax after helping him get the Anvil station up and running again. Last he had heard they were heading to the doctor's home world to drop him off along with the hospital equipment and supplies they had replicated for him in payment for his services.

  Sometimes he wondered how they had made out. He hadn't heard from them since they had left Anvil. Hopefully they were all right. Hell, hopefully Io was all right. That ship was a piece of his plan.

  When he had restored the ship he'd also restored her massive industrial replicators. As a fleet tender the ship had been designed to supply a ship or fleet with whatever it required. Everything from spare parts to munitions to hospital services. But the industrial replicators could also be used to build other things, like satellites, shuttle craft, space station components, or even entire shipyards and starships. The idea had apparently appealed to the crew when he had presented it to them.

  One of the things he hoped Io would accomplish in her journey was to help restore some of the systems she visited. To pass on some knowledge and to better the lives of the people living in what was pretty much the dark ages. Most were in crude huts or dying space habitats with little or no hope for the future.

  With a little luck and of course a healthy does of compensation he hoped the crew would be able to change some of that. He smiled a little. It was a hope, his hope. Right now the only one he had.

  His face twisted a little. That last wasn't quite true. Not completely. When he'd arrived in Pyrax he'd spent a great deal of time cleaning up and repairing Anvil... after he'd been forced to take it over to fight off the pirates of course.

  Firefly and the other ships they had found had been lucky breaks. Firefly had pretty much leveled the playing field against the pirates on her own. The other ships had turned what could have been a hard fought battle into a rout. He'd lost a few people but none of the ships had been destroyed. Damaged, but not destroyed. Along the way they had managed to capture the pirate fleet as well.

  Destiny had been one of those ships. He'd turned her over to the growing yard in order to focus on other duties. She'd been mothballed for the better part of three months until yard space had grown enough to take her in so she could be res
tored.

  Obviously she hadn't had enough time in yard hands. Not nearly enough. He was finding all sorts of issues, some major, some minor. He'd have to talk with someone about that. If he ever got the opportunity again.

  He'd been driven out of Pyrax by his own stupidity and willful blindness. Stupidity in turning his back on a group of corrupt politicians who had turned out to be surprisingly good at manipulating him and the public.

  He'd also been rather stupid and arrogant in going down to Vesta alone. He knew that now. He should have taken a marine escort. A group would have been harder to have denied, harder to have contained and threatened. But he'd gone it alone, wanting some Me time. He'd been sure his defenses and his AI were up for the challenge. They'd found a way through them, a way that was disgusting and vile but brilliantly twisted and well thought out.

  In the end it had worked. By his own actions he'd separated himself from his people. Taking advantage of that they had forced a wedge in deeper and forced him into choosing exile aboard Destiny or watch as twenty thousand innocent people died. He couldn't do it. He had enough blood on his hands and conscience. Enough for a life time, a thousand life times.

  And now here he was, he thought with a pang. Back to square one. No, further back than that. The people on this ship hated and despised him. He was undermined and had no way to fight it, the truth and evidence didn't work on this sort of battlefield. He wasn't sure what would. He was sure of one thing though, he wasn't ready to give up. Not on them or himself. Not by a long shot.

  “Thinking deep thoughts Admiral?” Sprite asked quietly.

  He shrugged, looking at the cables in his arm. “Just brooding.” He checked the clock. Six more minutes to go. This was going to be a long day. He sighed. “Not much else to do.”

  “I could use your help in here if you are interested,” she suggested. He pursed his lips. He knew the suggestion was to help keep his mind occupied. To keep him from brooding too much. Some of his pride warred with the idea of keeping busy. Finally the call of duty won out. He smiled.

  “Give me a list,” he said, settling back and closing his eyes. After all, he had nothing better to do with his time right now.

  Chapter 3

  Three days of being jacked in almost twenty four hours a day had led to the Admiral being a little tired, stir crazy, and crabby. The crew however was going from resentful or indifferent to his presence to almost companionable so he tried to keep a lid on his emotional state.

  It was a fragile thing, but he was starting to treasure it. He didn't want their angst, he wanted to get along. It was going to be a long trip after all.

  One of the first things he'd made was another industrial replicator. They'd installed it properly and he was now using that one instead of his shuttle's. That way they didn't have to refuel his shuttle.

  He looked around the room. It was mid afternoon shift, getting near supper. He'd forced himself to take at least one meal and potty break a shift but he was getting seriously tired of the routine.

  He didn't have a ship uniform. Just his standard gray military work coveralls. He preferred them over anything else. Bailey hadn't said anything so he kept wearing them.

  He'd seen a few of the other passengers in the ship companionways on the cameras or briefly in passing. Most were dressed in various civilian outfits, comfortable but not really practical on a ship. Again typical of civilians.

  Take for instance the blond Terran woman wearing a plaid miniskirt. Was that really necessary? What if the fabric was caught? What about that ponytail? Did she realize the long hair would get into all sorts of crevices and equipment causing no end of headaches for the crew? He realized he was being petty and schooled his thoughts to the task at hand.

  “That's the last for now,” he said getting up from the couch. Bailey had installed it for him to make the longer sessions easier on him. It was a lot more comfortable than the chairs and stools in the rest of engineering.

  “Ah... I think the purser wants to redo the number two hold...”

  “I said that's it for now. We've got a long trip. There isn't any point to wearing myself out any more to do this all at once. I for one need a shower and sleep,” he grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

  The tech reared back then nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine. You look a bit worn ah, Admiral,” she shook her head. The crew was still feeling out how to fit him into their midst. “You've been here all day?”

  “For three days. Non stop,” he grimaced rubbing the small of his back.

  “Three?” She stared in disbelief. She shook herself then nodded. “Yeah, I'd say that earned a break. One shift or a double is one thing but three days?” she asked as he climbed out of the shuttle then turned as it went into lock down. She followed him out of the bay.

  “Where are you going?” the assistant purser asked coming up to him.

  He grimaced. “Shower, food, and a bed, not necessarily in that order. The priorities are done the rest can damn well wait,” he replied, shouldering his way past and not looking back.

  “But I... we need to get the next line going...”

  “Give the man a break! He's been working flat out for three days straight!” the angry tech said shaking her head. “We've got a couple of weeks till we get out of hyper. It'll keep!” she snarled. He felt a little better at hearing that.

  Irons suppressed a small grin as he walked on. He turned a the corridor, gave the girl a nod which she returned curtly then kept going.

  “Well, that was fun,” Sprite said. “I see what you mean, you won a friend over there. But probably made an enemy as well.”

  “You can't please everyone,” he shrugged. He was getting a bit tired of bending over backward trying.

  “Finally figuring that out are you?” she asked as he entered his quarters.

  He sighed. “Do me a favor...”

  “Can the crap and go play in the net to give you some peace and quiet Admiral?” she asked sounding amused.

  “In a word... yes.”

  “It figures. Night Admiral.”

  “Night Sprite.”

  He went over to the shower and started to undress. He grimaced as he thought about ultrasonics versus a hot shower. Both seemed appealing, at least the massage aspects of both. Technically he didn't need one, his nanites kept him clean. But for his own sanity he kept up the habit. Besides, it felt good and helped him to relax.

  He opened the shower stall door then frowned at the latch. It seemed broken. Odd. He mentally filed it for a later day and left the door ajar as he turned the ultrasonics on.

  There was a brief scream of electronic hell and a rippling sensation on his front and chest that threw him backwards to rebound off the back wall of the stall. His head buzzed and then his audio died as the glass wall shattered outward. He fell to his knees, shaking his head as vertigo tore through him. He tried to suppress the nausea but unfortunately some bile came up. He coughed and then half crawled, half fell out of the stall. He felt the crunch of glass under his hands. Most of it was powdered.

  “What the hell was that?” he said, loudly. He looked around. He couldn't hear anything. “Sprite?” he asked looking up. His HUD was jumping around, flashing red around the border.

  “Accessing Admiral,” a text line went across his HUD. It flickered. His whole vision was swimming. It blinked out for a moment and he felt a flush of anxiety. “I'm sorry I was in the net.”

  “You were attacked,” Defender replied in text on the HUD. Slowly it stabilized.

  “Audio systems are severely damaged. You have significant sub-dermal damage to your chest and back. Fortunately your shields came up in time to deflect most of the internal injuries,” Proteus reported by text.

  “Any idea why?” he asked, brushing glass off of his hands and then grabbing a towel. He stood carefully, watching the room swim. He felt/heard a pop in his ears. After a moment the soft sounds of the cabin rushed back.

  “Audio repaired. Without first hand examination I can
not say what happened beyond an obvious malfunction.” Proteus reported as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

  “That was one hell of a malfunction,” Sprite commented angrily. “You were almost killed. A millisecond more...”

  “Enough Sprite,” he growled. “Anything on your end?”

  “No. I cut power to the stall when it hit you.”

  “Yeah,” he coughed, covering his mouth. He pulled his hand away to see blood. After a moment the blood faded, absorbed by the nanites in his skin.

  “You have significant system repairs needed Admiral. Please remain still,” Proteus said.

  “Hell with that,” Irons growled turning. “Take a look a the lock. He held his right palm over the face of the lock.

  “Accessing,” Proteus replied. “Shifting nanites away from repairs to investigation isn't a wise idea Admiral. You require medical attention. You may need to visit the sickbay. The lock can wait.”

  “Hell with that I said. I want answers,” Irons grimaced. “Just do it.” He closed his eyes and watched the nanites move on his HUD.

  “Very well. Investigation already in progress.” After a moment Proteus came back. “Admiral, the lock has been tampered with. Once it was latched it would have locked you in.”

  “How did you know?” Sprite asked.

  “I checked it earlier. While you were busy in the net. Before we left Pyrax. I went over this entire room with a fine tooth comb,” he shrugged. “I was bored and had nothing to do.”

  “Understood. Admiral, the ultrasonics, the shower door. This was no accident.”

  “Tell me about it,” he growled.

  “Ship security has been informed. The security chief is off duty and will be here shortly,” Defender said.

  Irons opened and closed his mouth, then worked his jaw. His teeth ground together. “Now wait... wait just a moment.”

  “Unfortunately too late Admiral. I concur with Defender. An attempt on your life requires notification to the authorities.”

  He sighed. “You know that it could be trouble.” He rubbed his brow, feeling a growing headache. The nanites were too busy dealing with the damage to deal with his low blood sugar and high blood pressure. He manually accessed his implants and got the BP problem under control.