Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) Read online

  He looked at the simian chief. Bailey was dressed in a formal uniform, surprising to some apparently. It was gray with green shoulder boards and trimmed in red. A gold wrench was pinned to his right lapel. Apparently that was some sort of signatory of his civilian rank. He had two hash marks on each sleeve like most of the other officers. The captain had four.

  “Yes, yes. We heard,” the purser said as the crew took their seats. “So you say.”

  “So my video shows. Audio as well. I was there after all Mister. You think I'd go along with abnormal behavior? I assure you, as an officer of the Federation Navy, I and the Admiral take our oaths very seriously,” she said sniping back. Irons winced. Maybe it was a good thing that the holo projectors were missing? That way Sprite wasn't present physically as well.

  “Which is why you got in trouble in the first place,” the captain said nodding. “I know. You were set up. Railroaded I believe is the term. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry my ship had a hand in it.” He turned to Irons letting some sincerity show in his expression. Irons nodded.

  “More than you know,” a delegate muttered, looking down. Only Irons and those closest to the delegate heard it. The delegation from Pyrax was led by a Miss Mayfair, a shrewish woman who apparently peddled her influence to someone on the council. She and a few of the other delegates weren't happy about Irons presence aboard ship. That pretty much told him that who ever was their backer was also someone behind his exile. He was curious about who. He was pretty sure Sprite wanted to find out.

  Mayfair was definitely a piece of work. She had a long dour face. No one in their right mind would ever call her pretty or beautiful. Mousy brown hair, cut short and curled close to her scalp. She had a mottled olive complexion that didn't compliment her in the slightest.

  She was wearing a gown, white with faux pearls. Most likely they were plastic. The chrome chain around her right wrist with some sort of dangling time piece was an interesting item. She didn't look at all happy to be there. He could understand.

  Being torn like that must be hard on some, the Admiral thought. On the one hand your boss sends you out to do a mission, then you find out he tried to kill you. To stab you in the back and you owe your life to the guy your boss hated. To hang onto that prejudice even after everything that had happened....

  It was strange, they had been stabbed in the back and yet they still clung to their loyalties to the very people who had tried to murder them. And the same went for the assassin, he couldn't understand why someone would do something like that after finding out about the virus. Some misplaced loyalties defied logic apparently.

  But then again people were fallible. No doubt Miss Mayfair had convinced herself that Irons had made the entire emergency up? But how did she explain the missing equipment?

  “Something to say Miss Mayfair?” the captain asked politely, eyes narrowed.

  Mayfair squirmed under the gaze a little, fighting the urge to glare. Instead she looked down and away for a moment. “Ah no,” she said looking up. Her hand crumpled the napkin she was holding. “No, not at all captain. Welcome, welcome. It is so nice to have a visitor from our past. And a celebrity at that,” she smiled a false smile that fooled no one.

  Irons snorted mentally. She obviously had no experience in diplomacy and high stakes politics. She didn't put a lot of effort into herself or into that smile. That spoke volumes to him about her chances of achieving anything worthwhile.

  “Oh this is going to be so much fun. Joy,” Bailey muttered.

  So why'd you come?” Irons asked, leaning over to the simian.

  Brown eyes met his briefly before the simian's large nostrils dilated. “You needed the back up. Besides, seeing their choked faces was worth all the annoyance of the pomp and circumstance crap of a formal dinner. I'm hoping one of them has a nice coronary by the time we reach dessert.”

  “Gee thanks,” Irons said. “Least I'm the source of someone's entertainment.”

  “Every day Admiral. Every day,” the simian said, smiling slightly and slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, let's eat.”

  “Well, that was fun,” Bailey said picking up his beer stein as he watched the bulk of the Pyraxian delegation leave. “I gotta hand it to you Admiral, you do make things lively. Not to mention clear a room.” He saluted the Admiral with the stein.

  Irons snorted. Mayfair and her people had cleared the decks as quickly as they could without making too much of a scene. Mayfair's backward glare at him hadn't been missed though. “Something like that,” Irons said shaking his head at the chief's perfidy. “I'm curious why though.” He rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

  “Patronage,” the captain said tracing a finger on a linen napkin. He looked up as they looked to him. “Seriously. Most of them were nominated for this by the ruling council. Some by members of that committee who no doubt screwed you. And damn near screwed us.”

  A blond head down the row looked up and then grimaced. She nodded though. “He's right,” She shook her head.

  “Miss Willis? I didn't see you there,” Bailey said leaning forward to get a look. “I'm surprised that you didn't turn tail with your fellows and high tail it out of here first chance you got.”

  Irons was surprised by the dancing blue green eyes and white smile. The woman was a looker, obviously used to using her body as much as her brains to get her way. She had plenty of cleavage and an hourglass figure. He was pretty sure she could get her way with that smile alone. He reminded him of someone... a woman from Terra's ancient past. Marilyn something or other. The last name started with another M. She had poise and grace, he wondered if there was a mind to go along with that body?

  She took his look in and her saucy eyelids lowered slightly. Her full red lips smiled ever so slightly wider. She knew he was checking her out and she didn't seem to mind. She actually seemed to preen. Interesting, he thought. “And why would I do that?” she asked amused. “To avoid being contaminated by the Admiral?”

  Bailey's brown eyes flashed at that. He opened his mouth to reply but she smiled disarmingly again and held up a restraining hand. “No, I know he's innocent. And frankly, what the council does isn't my problem right now. We've got enough on our plate here and now. It'll be what, a year before we're back to Pyrax?” she asked turning to the navigator.

  “Something like that,” he mumbled. “I wish we had Deja, but he refused to come.”

  “Friend of yours?” Irons asked. He wasn't keen about a hyper navigator who was unsure of himself. It was better than one who was overconfident and liked to take risks, but it had it's own draw backs as well.

  “Former navigator. He's a selkie,” Bailey answered looking at the tall gangly navigator.

  “You know him?” Miss Willis asked.

  Bailey snorted. “Course I do. He's a damn good navigator. No offense Clarke.” He nodded to the navigator who nodded back. “But selkies have a leg up on the competition.”

  “So why didn't he stay?” the delegate asked confused.

  “He was a slave, like most of the rest of us. He may have liked swimming the god sea as he called it, but being tortured didn't help his outlook on being a spacer,” Clarke replied with a grimace. “He could shave weeks off a transit time. But he gave it up when we were freed.”

  “Did he now?” Willis asked, stirring her drink. “I find that surprising. What career path could he find in Pyrax I wonder?”

  “As a marine actually,” Bailey said shooting a glance to the Admiral. Irons looked surprised.

  “Accessing. There is a recruit by that name in the roster Admiral,” Sprite said over his link.

  “Apparently he did. Sprite just confirmed it,” Irons replied with a shrug. “He signed on as enlisted. I'm not sure why.”

  “Surprising. He wants to be a grunt?” the purser asked. “How droll.”

  “Takes all kinds. For instance it takes pissants to make pursers,” Bailey responded. A few sputtered in their drinks at that.

  Irons hid a grin as the purser glared
at the chimp. If looks could kill they'd need a new chief engineer. And a new chair since the one he was in would have been kindling. Fortunately the glare bounced right off the insolent look of the engineer.

  The purser was bigger than the chief but not by much. And no one messed with a simian if they could help it. They had ten times the strength of a normal unaugmented or unmodified human. If the simian had augmentation or mods as well... they could easily turn just about any Terran into a pretzel sculpture.

  Irons rolled his shoulders. A few made really good guards, soldiers, or marines. He had really liked a gorilla masseuse back in his junior officer days. She had a way of working out the knots and kinks in the body.

  After a moment of indecision the purser turned his attention to Irons. He shook his head. “Your influence Admiral. Otherwise we wouldn't have to bear with uncivilized behavior,” he sniffed. Irons hid a grimace. Typical. Shift the blame to him since his tormentor was too scary to hit back at.

  “Maybe so, I for one am glad he's here. I wasn't looking forward to dipping into the e-rats and maybe going to half rations before we even got to Agnosta,” Bailey said shaking his head. The steward shot him a look and then nodded reluctantly.

  “You're kidding!” Willis said in dismay, wide eyed.

  “No. Oh we've got fresh food for the first couple of weeks, but that's supposed to be used sparingly. We didn't take on the food we normally would have because we thought that the replicators would take up the slack. We're supposed to recycle as much food as possible.”

  “Of course,” she nodded. “All ships and space colonies do.”

  “Destiny has small green house compartments, and everyone is encouraged to grow food plants in their rooms or other compartments. But that doesn't make up for the difference. Not by a long shot,” Irons said.

  “Well it's kind of hard to do when we don't have a greenhouse or food replicators. Or didn't until the Admiral here intervened,” Bailey said motioning to the Admiral. Which was true, Irons reflected. They didn't have the greenhouses online yet. He wondered if the seeds were even there? Or the equipment? He'd have to pass it on to the chief to check.

  “Thank you again for that,” Willis said smiling.

  “How could we have been forced to use the E-rats. Those are for emergencies right?” Clarke asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Exactly. Which it would have been. We've got a bigger crew and passenger manifest than normal,” the purser replied. He shot a glance at Bailey and then to the Admiral. He shook his head. “More people means more drain on food, power and resources.”

  “Life support isn't your problem. We've got that covered,” Bailey replied pretending to buff his fingernails.

  “And the power as well,” Irons said nodding.

  “Yes, but the replicators and recycling are your responsibility,” the purser replied, giving a triumphant smirk to the captain.

  “As I see it, it was yours,” Bailey replied. The purser turned with a curious look. “They were logged as cargo and stores after all. Your domain right?” Suddenly the purser looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  The simian's eyes gleamed. Irons turned to the purser, raising an eyebrow as well. He picked up a cup of coffee with the ship's crest on it and took a sip.

  The captain nodded, clearly interested in this line of discussion. “Yes. He is correct. And you did sign off on them without checking,” he said. There was enough reproof in his tone to make even the Admiral wince and straighten.

  “I can't check every crate. To do so would hold up the schedule,” the purser replied with a snarl hands on the edge of the table. “Captain honestly...”

  “What? You are telling me your people couldn't have checked even one crate? A random sampling?” Willis asked in disbelief. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was pouting a little.

  “She's right you know,” Bryan the medic replied looking from Willis to the purser.

  “You stay out of this, if we want your opinion we will ask for it,” the purser growled. “Jumped up, wet behind the ears wanna be nurse,” he muttered.

  “What was that?” the medic snarled, tossing his napkin onto his plate and starting to rise.

  “Easy there,” Irons said, hand on his arm. He gently pushed the young man back into his seat. “As someone pointed out, civility is severely lacking in some people.”

  “Obviously,” the medic said shooting dagger looks toward the purser.

  “So the problem has been remedied?” the captain asked, toying with his glass as he changed the subject.

  “Yes. My people are installing them now. We'll have the last deck done by the end of next shift I think. There is nothing we can do about the missing stuff like the vid screens though.”

  “So we need not concern ourselves about it anymore.”

  “Well, there is a point. I wish I had been notified about the short supplies. You as well captain of course,” the security chief said giving the captain a look. “We needed to know to prepare ourselves and our people.”

  “For what?” the purser asked wrinkling his nose. “What else can there be?”

  “For people panicking, getting into trouble, hoarding, anything,” the chief replied. Ed spread his hands, indicating there was of course more to it than that. Irons nodded slightly. At least one of the other officers was on his game. Sort of. “I didn't know. My bad, I should have kept on it and anticipated it. Fortunately the Admiral's actions kept a lid on things. When word got out that he was correcting the problem everyone settled down.”

  “But it was still a problem,” Willis said pursing her lips thoughtfully.

  “True,” Ed admitted.

  “He does have a point there,” the captain sighed. “Fortunately, it is a moot point. But I expect better of you Ed, from now on.” The security chief nodded. “You too Charlie,” he said, giving the purser a look.

  “Yes sir,” the purser said nodding looking decidedly nettled.

  “How are you feeling Admiral?” Willis asked looking to him.

  “Me? Fine, just fine,” he answered and then shrugged. “Thank you for asking.”

  “I heard you had been injured. Something about your shower?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “How'd you hear that?” Bailey asked, suddenly intent. Willis reared back startled.

  “From the ship's grapevine. It's all over the place,” she said giving the chimp an amused look. The chimp didn't look like he believed her.

  “She's correct Admiral,” Sprite told him over his HUD. She sounded a bit disgusted but unsurprised that it had hit the grapevine. He nodded. Him coming up a cropper would be juicy news for the entire ship's compliment.

  “I believe it is all over the net,” the purser said, coming to the beleaguered delegate's defense.

  “So how are you?” the captain asked, turning to view Irons. “You look well.”

  Irons shrugged. “I am.”

  “The ultrasonics should have cooked you Admiral. I should have taken you to sickbay,” Bryan the paramedic said looking concerned.

  “Not necessary,” Irons said waving a dismissive hand.

  “From the size of those bruises it should have been,” the security chief replied. “I looked it up. You probably sustained internal injuries.”

  “I did. My implants repaired the damage,” Irons held up his left wrist and then unbuttoned his cufflink and pulled the sleeve back to his elbow. “See?” His skin was unblemished.

  The security chief looked then whistled a little. A few of the others looked as well. The purser grimaced and looked away.

  “All better. The wonder of modern medicine,” Irons said nodding to the paramedic. “I would have just been another body cluttering up your tiny sick bay.”

  “Yes. I see that now,” Bryan said, blinking in confusion.

  “How did it break down?” Clarke asked.

  “The investigation is still in progress,” the security chief replied, shooting a warning look to Irons and Bailey. They both n
odded, getting the message.

  “I see.”

  “I believe this ship is old. A death trap. Typical malfunction. What do you expect from a ship centuries old?” the purser asked with a sniff. “We really shouldn't have left Pyrax. That problem with the computer bears this out.”

  “On the contrary, I repaired the replicator, shower, and other things in my quarters days ago. To my satisfaction,” Irons replied then practically kicked himself when the security chief gave him a dirty disgusted look. From the looks around the room the others were coming to the logical conclusion that statement generated. He winced internally. Oops.

  “You did? How odd that it broke down so soon then,” Miss Willis said shaking her head. There was an odd note there. He wasn't sure about it.

  “Yes. Odd,” Bailey said giving the Admiral his own look. “But we're looking into things now. Hopefully there will not be a repeat with someone else. Someone without the Admiral's healing ability.”

  “You said your food replicator was working?” the purser asked suddenly leaning forward.

  “Yes,” Irons shrugged, looking to Bailey. “I was assigned to a new cabin that had one.”

  “How is that possible. I assigned you those quarters and I assure you nothing... um...” He shot a guilty look to the captain.

  “Nothing worked you mean?” the captain asked, eyes cold. The purser squirmed under the captain's gaze. His eyes fell and his hands twisted in his lap. He looked like a guilty school kid caught in a prank. After a moment he turned to look at the Admiral.

  Irons shrugged. “Simple. I told you, I fixed it.” He shrugged knocking his drink back. “I am an engineer after all. It's what we do.”

  “How is that possible?” Clarke asked. “I thought no one can do that. Something about they self destruct when tampered with?”

  “You just need the knowledge,” Bailey said. “Right Admiral?”

  “Something like that. Also the access codes,” Irons smiled.

  “You have them?” the captain asked surprised. He knew something about that from personal experience. When he had been young and particularly stupid he had tried to make a nice chrome blaster for himself with one of the few functional replicators on his ship. He had watched, eager and then horrified as the replicator self destructed. He had spent weeks in the brig on bread and water over that. His father had strapped him within an inch of his life. He still had the scars to this very day. He'd spent two years working every shit job on the ship in further penance. Replicators were precious things and once they were gone... He'd learned his lesson after that.