Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (26 page)

Ed
grimaced, scowl deepening even further. “No sir. Not a blessed thing. The camera
in that section was out. I'm guessing it was tampered with, but we'll know more
when we get it apart.” He was damn sure someone somewhere was going to pay
dearly for this. Hopefully whoever had done this had been just sloppy enough to
leave a piece of themselves behind.

“It
was taken out in the blast, I'll bet it's in pieces scattered all over the
area. Or being swept up now,” Bailey said. He waved a dismissive hand,
personally already sure of what they were going to find. “Good luck though, who
ever did this was good.”

“Did
they do it now or earlier?” the captain mused, rubbing his chin. They looked at
him expectantly. After a moment he looked up. “I was just thinking, if this was
done some time ago, say during the virus attack or even before that...”

“We'd
have no way of knowing. For that matter the bomb could have been there the
entire time and someone just triggered the recycler to go down and arm the damn
thing at the right time.”

“But
how would they know you two would be the one's to fix it?”

“Captain,
I'm well, I'm not one to leave the hard jobs to my people. I do like to get my
hands dirty,” Bailey said, brown eyes turning on the Admiral to get him to keep
his mouth shut. “The Admiral is of the same mind. We lead from the front so to
speak.”

“True.”
The captain nodded. It was something he clearly liked in both men.

“And
so you think someone arranged this so you'd just jump in and do it? Hell of a
risk, what if one or both of you had been busy and someone else caught the
detail?”

“I
think who ever did this is keeping tabs on us. Someone who knew we were
free....”

“And
knew enough about us or me for that matter in that I'd be willing to jump in,”
Irons said. He looked bleak. “You're not the target chief, I'm pretty sure
you've just been caught in the cross hairs these times.”

“Mighty
damn wide cross hairs,” Ed growled. “First the virus, then the poison, now
this? What's next?”

“I
don't know, but I bet I see three men determined to keep this from repeating
itself ever again,” Ferguson said. The others nodded grimly back. “That is
right after you get me a new recycler.”

Both
engineers looked a little put out over that little chore.

“We're
going to need it if we're to continue this journey. Which I for one am more
determined than ever to accomplish, if only to spit in the eye of who ever has
been trying to bring us down when we get back to Pyrax.

Irons
mouth quirked in a crocked grin. Bailey and Ed glanced his way and then
shrugged, determined as their captain.

“Dismissed
gentlemen, get to work.”

“How
much longer until you are out of here?” Everette asked, catching up to him in
the corridor outside his quarters. He'd ducked in to suit up before heading to
the boat bay.

“Eager
to see me leave Everette?” Irons teased. The young man sputtered.

“Sorry,
no I, well it's just well, I ah, wanted to come with you and they wont let me.
Harry and the chief I mean.”

“Oh,
well, maybe next time son, I've got to make at least a trip a day if we're
going to get enough material in to make a difference.” He sighed internally. And
to make up for that damn recycler. Replacing that had thrown him a bit off
schedule. He'd missed the first window and was determined not to miss the
second.

“Wha..?”
the young man ground to a halt and stared as Irons kept going.

Noticing
it the Admiral turned and smiled but kept walking. “See you real soon!” he
waved as he turned the corner.

“Don't
worry about us going anywhere Admiral,” Bailey whispered to him near the lock.
He paused and turned to give the chimp a curious look.

The
simian tugged on his ear, making him look a little ludicrous. “See we developed
a problem with the drive, the darn thing wont work without you here. So don't
worry about losing your ride or nuthin.”

“Thanks
chief,” Irons said, cracking a smile. That had been a slight concern actually.
Not that he didn't have a place to go. He could just barely make it to the
planet if he dropped the load at the right time. It would be tight but do able.
Barely.

Not
that it would be needed. Apparently even the captain wanted him to wrangle that
rock. Charlie the purser was already washing his hands in glee over what they
could make from it's materials. He just had one thought for the purser, don't
count all your metals before you get them. Especially since the neither the
purser nor any of the ship's crew were helping out. This was all down to him.
So he had his own plans for a lot of the rock.

“Nothin'
to it John, just get what you've got to do done and get your lazy ass back up
here so I can kick it back into shape.”

“Sure
chief,” Irons said shaking his head and laughing. “Whatever you say.” He patted
the simian on the shoulder and then made his way forward.

“So
we're just going to pick up that rock?” Sprite demanded as he ran through the
pre-flight check up. He was being both thorough and careful. He'd even taken
the time to scan the boat bay and his launch down to a cubic centimeter.
Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Why
do you ask?” he asked amused. “Hold that thought for a moment,” he said,
grasping the control yoke and wiggling it slightly. “Destiny this is Fleet
Five-niner, ready for launch.”

“Destiny
control to Five-niner, that's a go.”

“Roger
that.” he tapped the controls with his implants and then rested his right hand
on the throttle. A slight touch was all that was needed to get the ship off the
deck and into the vacuum of the bay. He maneuvered out of the lock and headed
for space.

“Five-niner
clear.”

“Roger
that Five-niner, good hunting.”

“Roger.
Back in a bit.”
He checked the course once more and then turned the auto pilot on. There was
something to be said about keeping his hands on a stick to keep in practice,
and in close quarters he'd prefer his own hands and mind over an uncaring
computer, but when it came to a long run, best to let the computer deal with
it. For now.

“You
were saying?” he asked.

“I
was asking if we're just going to be playing tug. But judging from the
inventory...”

“The
answer is no. Correct. I didn't have enough for all three like I wanted, but I
did get two done. General purpose, but that should be fine for a test run.”

“True.
Did you tell anyone you were doing this?”

“A
few techs may have twigged on to it.”

“But
not the crew in general.”

“Must
have slipped my mind to make a broadcast of my every move,” he said, checking
the first satellite. He checked the chrono. He had about an hour before the
first launch window.

The
satellites were general purpose affairs, semi-complex devices with the most
amount of sensors crammed into the smallest package. They had solar panels that
would fold out like wings when in space. With those and super conductor
batteries they should last for decades. Possibly centuries if they were lucky.

On
one side there was a series of sensor arrays. Masts were folded or stowed along
the top and other sides. A simple OMS pack was on the back. It had an ion
engine and would use a small fuel tank to maintain position once it was placed.

The
satellites would serve a multitude of uses. For one they could relay
communications between ground stations. Or from one ground station to orbit. Or
between objects in orbit for that matter.

They
also had limited sensors to detect objects in space, and a limited ability to
study the terrain and atmosphere below. That would allow the colonists the
ability to not only study their world, predicting weather patterns, but also
look for geological deposits... and keep a wary eye out for uninvited guests.

But
unfortunately, like all general purpose units it had it's drawbacks. The
biggest was one that all general purpose units had, the fact that it was a
generalist. Machinery that was designed to do multiple tasks did each to a
varying degree, and none perfectly. None nearly as good as a specialist could
do. But he had to start somewhere with his limited resources.

“I
honestly didn't think you'd get them done in time,” Sprite said, amused. He
looked up.

“You
don't know me by now?” he asked, amused himself. He shook his head as he got
out of the pilot chair and started to check the satellite over one last time.

“Not
what I meant. Well, maybe a little. I honestly didn't expect the help you got.”

“Never
underestimate the generosity of the human spirit. Or what ever being you wish
to insert for human,” he smiled.

"Destiny
to Fleet Five-niner," came the voice over the communications channel,
"I don't want you to be alarmed, but something just came off your
shuttle.”

Irons
smiled. Good eye, they were watching him. “Took them long enough to notice,”
Sprite said with a sniff of disdain.

“Now,
now, be nice.” He nodded as he opened the channel. “Fleet Five-niner to
Destiny, that is a roger. I've been launching satellites.” That had been his
next to last one actually.

“Satellites?”

“Roger
that Destiny.” He said, shaking his head. The young woman sounded a bit stunned
by that. “I'm about to launch another in a moment or two. Feel free to watch.”

When
he was finished with his satellites he waited as the launch carefully burned a
calculated burn to get to the rock. It took a bit of effort but he found what
he was looking for.

  He
returned to the ship as the second away mission was leaving, and was met by a
bemused exec and confused colony delegation who had come up from the surface
for a visit. “Why?” Mayfair asked as the delegates looked on.

“I
didn't do it for you,” Irons said, using a push pull to unload rock from the
shuttle. He grunted as he got the push pull over to the side. A crew member
smiled and took over from there. He nodded and returned for more.

He
had noted he had an audience in the bay. From the look of it they were a mixed
group. They were segregated too, the home spun somewhat worn look of the
Agnostans and the clean cut rather sophisticated look of the Pyraxians. It
reminded him of a flick about city slickers and hillbillies crossing paths with
rather predicable and yet hilarious results.

He
wondered if the same would happen here? Maybe. They obviously weren't getting
along very well. The Agnostans were more interested in seeing a real starship
than in talking with them from the cool looks they were shooting at Mayfair.
She was overstepping herself again.

“Why
would you do this? Spend your time at such a task?” He smiled. She'd tried to
take credit for what he was doing, or so he had heard. Clearly someone had
educated the others. Or maybe Willis had intervened and corrected her? That was
a possibility.

“You
want me to sit in my room and sulk? I'm not doing it for you I said. You or
most of the people here. I'm doing it for them,” he pointed to the Agnosta
delegates watching nearby. They had arrived on the last shuttle, sent up by
their respective local governments to tour the ship and sit down and talk with
the Pyraxians. One Terran male about two meters tall pointed to his chest in
surprise. Irons nodded. “They deserve a second chance. They and their children
deserve to live without living in fear,” he grimaced, knowing he was flubbing
it. He'd prepared for this. He hoped it would have it's intended effect but he
wasn't sure. “We both know that it is necessary.”

“But...”

“Look,
I'm not going to...” he shook his head in annoyance. “Just because people act
out of ignorance or stupidity, or petty short sighted political crap, who
refuse to admit to what they see right in front of them, is no reason for me to
give up on my oath to the Federation. I am an officer sworn to uphold and
protect her citizens in time of need. This is such a time. I'm doing my job.
It's that simple.”

He'd
heard that the talks weren't going as fast as they would like. There were a lot
of problems to get over, namely distrust. It was small things, acts of kindness
like this that might help smooth things over. Of course there were going to be
cynical skeptics looking for some reason to point to it as a Machiavellian
effort on his part, but he didn't have a way to handle that so didn't bother to
try.

He
shouldered past them and kept going to the hatch. The leader of the Agnosta
delegates stared at him in confusion and respect. He was pretty sure now who
was really responsible for the gift of supplies and this entire mission now. He
had been getting mixed messages about this strange man they called the Admiral.
The engineer. From the sound of it he was some sort of myth, to the Pyraxian
delegates some sort of monster, to the crew he was almost a god. He was pretty
sure the Admiral was a man now, a man somewhere in the middle like everyone
else. But special. There was something there, something that made him feel
better. Like he had his hand out, a helping hand rather then the usual hand or
fist to beat them down. Interesting.