Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (27 page)

The
Pyrax delegation were confused, floundering as their leader gaped like a fish
and turned interesting shades of puce. Willis turned away, hiding a smirk.

Outside
the lock he let his breath out. The exec looked up and for once she wasn't cold
and distant. “Fun,” he sighed shaking his head and closing his eyes for a brief
moment. That run had been tiring, not because of the length of time but because
of the finicky piloting in picking off pieces and gathering them up. It would
have been nice to have done it with a bot or a tug.

The
exec smiled ruefully and thanked the engineer. “With the satellites we can keep
in constant contact with the teams, and coordinate their actions. The captain
had been concerned when they had planned their mission, he had wanted to keep
to a geostationary position over the team, using one at a time, but they had
such a need down there that we've scattered our people all over the globe.”

He
nodded. He was amused that no one had considered the simple idea of satellites.
Amused and a little dismayed. Maybe they had been working to long too close to
the project to see it? Was it short sightedness or a deliberate oversight? Or
the lack of imagination brought on by living in this time, with a lack of
resources? He wasn't sure.

“We,
well, we've had trouble keeping tabs on everyone. I wanted to do something
about it but the captain decided to keep to a lower faster orbit to do survey
work and stay out of a fixed position. After the last pirate attack he was a
little gun shy of getting caught,” she said.

 The
engineer nodded thoughtfully as he locked his shuttle down remotely. “Thank you
commander.”

“Oh
I'm not a commander, though I'd well...” she sobered a little as the lock came
open and Mayfair looked around. “I'll talk to you some other time Admiral,” she
said quietly, bowing slightly to Irons.

“Thank
you,” he nodded politely as he left them behind.

Irons
was sitting at the bar when the head of the Agnosta delegation came in. He
looked up as Sprite highlighted his presence. “He's been asking about you,” she
said. Irons nodded slightly.

The
red haired, red bearded man spotted his prey and thumbed his suspenders. He
came over and tipped his hat to the Admiral. Irons smiled and nodded. He looked
a little like an old Terran luddite but he knew better. Behind that smile and
old eyes was a wisdom of practical experience. Good.

“Something
I can do for you sir?” he asked, smiling.

“I
hear tell it was you we have to thank for this mission. And all the gifts
they've been dropping down yonder,” he said, nodding to the view screen showing
the planet slowly rotating in space.

Irons
glanced at it and then back to the man. “I had a small hand in things,” he
said.

“Pish
posh, that's not what I heard,” the farmer said, puckering his lips and
bellying up to the bar. “What do you have to drink here?” he asked looking over
the bar hopefully. “Beer?”

“Beer
or hard liquor. Processed or from the tap. Take you pick,” the bartender
chittered, waving his upper arms.

“You
one of them veraxins right?” the farmer asked, eying the bug behind the bar.
The veraxin finished wiping out a glass with a white dish towel before he put
it up on the bar in front of the farmer.

“I
have that honor yes,” he said. Irons could see his display of amused inquiry.
He wondered if the farmer could read the alien's body language.

“Cool,
right neighborly of you if you'd pour me a round of your best tipple,” the
farmer said, smiling brown teeth as he tipped a finger to his hat to push it up
a half centimeter.

“Coming
right up,” the veraxin said nodding.

“I
don't feel right around those Pyraxians. Damn odd the way I feel. Dressed up, all
city like. Now take me, I'm a simple dirtside farmer. I may have been a teacher
and mayor at one time but a farmer I am, always will be.”

“I
think we can all learn some humility,” Irons said diplomatically. “Working with
your hands can teach you it.”

“That's
right,” the farmer said smiling a little. “An engineer I heard?” Irons nodded.
“That's right,” the farmer drawled. “Work with your hands all the time,” he
said looking at the Admiral's hands.

The
farmer turned, elbows resting on the bar as he took the scene in. A group had
set up a large rectangular table in the center of the room and were playing
ping pong. It was some sort of tournament. Irons was amused by the constant
click and clatter.

“Pong.
Played it when I was a lad. Glad things haven't changed,” the farmer said,
taking a piece of grass out of a breast pocket and popping an end in his mouth.
The veraxin behind him filled his glass and pushed it over to him on a coaster.

“Thank
ye lad. What do I owe you?” he asked.

“On
the house,” the veraxin said amused.

“I
thank ye again for your generosity,” he said and then took up the beer. It had
a good head on it but Irons was pretty sure it wasn't as favorable as the
farmer was used to. He watched as the farmer took a sip and then grimaced and
set the glass down.

“That's
the problem with beer. It loses it's flavor,” the farmer muttered.

“More
likely the difference between replicated and home brew. We used up most of the
home brew on the way out,” the veraxin said with a shrug of annoyance. Irons
grimaced. “The purser's supposed to be getting us more but I doubt it.”

“I'll
put in a good word,” the farmer said picking up the stout again. He was
obviously doing it to be polite. When the veraxin moved away he shook his head.
“Love in a small boat beer. Go figure,” he said under his breath, just loud
enough for the Admiral to hear.

Irons
grinned. “You mean fracking close to water? Accurate unfortunately. The crew of
a starship do not normally have access to high alcholic drinks on duty. That's
probably near beer,” he said nodding his chin to the beer.

“Ah.
Shit,” the farmer said taking a swig.

“You
wanted to talk to me about something?” Irons asked.

The
farmer turned, setting the stout down. He shook his head. “I was wondering if
they were legit. They sure are full of themselves. All sorts of grandiose
ideas. I was wondering who stuffed them full of them. And why?”

“I'm
not sure what ideas they are sharing with you so I'm not sure. I did put them
up to reforming the Federation government.”

“Ah?”
the farmer asked turning. “George by the way,” he held out a well callused
hand. A workers hand. “George Custard.”

“Fleet
Admiral John Henry Irons,” Irons said, shaking the hand.

“You
do that thing with the hand?” the farmer asked, pointing to the hand.

Irons
raised his right hand and flexed his fingers. The color immediately changed to
chrome. “You mean this thing?” Irons asked.

The
farmer's eyes widened fractionally. After a moment of staring he whistled and
then slapped the bar. “Well by Jove you are legit!” he said, sounding oddly
happy.

“That
I am.”

“Word
is you're from the past. No one round these parts and time have that,” the
farmer said indicating the hand with a nod of his chin. Irons nodded. The hand
was a good way to prove he was telling the truth about who and what he was.

“It
comes in handy,” Irons said with a small smile. The farmer looked at him and
then guffawed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Handy!
I get it! Handy,” he said, chuckling.

“We
really are trying to set up civilization. Or at least I am.”

“I
heard some odd tales about you. Something nasty swirling about. I was wondering
about that.”

Irons
face worked. He could see Sprite suddenly on his HUD, she was fuming. He was
pretty sure why. He sighed. “It's a long story. Do you have the time?” he
asked. The farmer nodded.

Irons
laid out the story, explaining some and then showing him the vid on the screen
near them. After a few minutes he heard the click and clatter of the ping pong
battle behind them terminate. He looked through his sensors, yes, he had an audience.

“I'm
not sure why someone is causing problems. I know people can be spiteful and
well...”

The
farmer raised a hand. “Say no more. Had a neighbor like that a dozen years ago.
Spiteful as wherry. Bastard spirit of space rest his soul... right bastard. Not
neighborly at all when he came and settled. Twister up and tore his land apart
and no one would lift a finger to help, cause he never ever helped others. He
left.”

“Ouch.”

“Now,”
the farmer indicated the veraxin. “Him I like even though he has a, let's say
poor choice in alcoholic refreshment. Too bad we don't have many of his kind on
the planet anymore. Damn pirates. Louses and parasites the lot.”

“I
heard it was rough,” Irons said.

“Rough!
Rough he says!” the farmer shook his head. He waggled a finger at the veraxin.
“They targeted his kind, and any like him. Neos, aliens... anyone around them.
Blasted them clear off the planet. We don't know why. Don't care. Ain't right.”

“I'm
trying to stop that,” Irons said.

“You
are?”

“I've
been rebuilding the fleet. I want to expand.”

“You
do?”

“Would
your people be interested in hosting a marine base or two?” Irons asked. Slowly
the farmer smiled, eyes lighting.

“I
bet they'd knock the stuffing out of any louse that came calling. And you'd of
course have a ship of some sort to help them out of course?”

Irons
nodded seriously. “Of course. A frigate at the very least at each of the jump
points. A ship in orbit too on occasion. You know nothing is coming from Pyrax
now.”

“Right
neighborly of you. Us neighbors, we need to stick together. You held out a
friendly hand to me and my kin. I'll not forget it Irons. Me, nor my kin. We'll
do right by you. Let's talk.”

“I'd
love to,” Irons smiled as the farmer patted him on the shoulder. “First...”

They
talked for a bit, laying out a general plan and agreement. When they were done
the farmer shook his hand. He had a lot of strength in that hand. Strength of
character and of heart to go right along side his farmer's grit. Good. Good to
know, good to see. The new Federation needed people like him. Needed them
badly.

“I'll
run this by my people. Can you draw up what we said all legal like?”

“Consider
it done,” Sprite said from the holo projector nearby. The farmer stared at her
image.

“I
don't mean to be rude but you... you're one of those Ais, right?” Sprite smiled
and nodded. The Farmer's crows feet crinkled as his eyes twinkled. He smiled
again. “Well I'll be a son of a monkey!” he chuckled and then laughed. “Lass
you made my day!”

“Glad
someone's happy to see me,” she deadpanned, giving the Admiral a helpless look.
Irons shrugged.

The
farmer held up a hand as he got the laugh out of his system. “Sorry, I... we
heard about your kind but I never expected to ever see one like you. I... this
really is a trip to tell my grandkids about.”

“Why
thank you,” Sprite said demurely. She curtsied. “I've uploaded the
conversation, written out the contracts and uploaded them to you and to the
Admiral.”

“Thank
ye kindly lass.”

Sprite
turned to Irons. “Admiral you are wanted in engineering and in the replicator
room. I believe the first load of material has been processed.”

“Duty
calls,” Irons said, pushing himself away from the bar reluctantly. He shook
hands with Custard once more. “Good luck. What we've talked about is the basics
the Pyraxians were supposed to talk to you about.”

“I'll
keep it in mind. I thank you Admiral. You are a rare bird indeed,” he said
smiling again.

“Take
care,” Irons said taking his leave.

Irons
came into main engineering a few minutes later and nodded as chief Bailey waved
him over. “I'm stopping by the replicators here in a sec. Just give me a minute
to get this done,” the chimp chief engineer said, tapping at a tablet. He
handed it to his assistant after a moment. “Okay Harry, I want to see this done
by the end of this shift.”

“Gotcha
chief,” Harry said. He scanned the bullet point list and then nodded. “Seems
simple enough.”

“The
simplest things are sometimes the hardest to do,” Irons deadpanned.

“Yeah,
cause they're fricken boring,” Bailey said rolling his eyes. “Come on.”

They
made their way to the replicators and paused as a class formed up. “Something I
should know about chief?” Irons asked amused. He'd been away from the ship for
a while and hadn't expected this.

“You're
asking me? I... this is the first I heard of this. I was doing a random
inspection tour, or so I thought,” he said wrinkling his brow.

“We
heard you were coming through the grapevine, so, well...” the kids on the other
side said. They stepped through the hatch and nodded to the tech in charge of the
replicator. “We...ah...”