Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (29 page)

“By
equipment you mean extruders and such?” the chief asked nodding. “Could work,”
he said as he rubbed his chin. “Makes sense now that someone's mentioned it. I
wish you would have put it up sooner,” he said dryly.

“Give
me a break chief, I just remembered it,” the Admiral said shaking his head. “I
wasn't into... he caught the chimp's amused expression and snorted. “Okay you
got me you hairy ape. Cute.”

“I
was just going to let you go on and on...” the chief said smiling broadly.

“Funny.
Laugh a minute,” Irons said shaking his head but smiling.

“I'll
talk to Charles and crew working on stuff like that and see what they say.
We'll see what we can do. I was wondering though, what happens to the
replicators when your not around?”

“They
work.”

“Not
what I meant. Not at all,” the chimp said waving the thought aside. I mean
maintenance. They are robots after all, machinery. Everything needs routine
maintenance. And the nanites... there have got to be some losses.”

“There
is,” Irons said nodding as he sobered. “nanites are lost when they malfunction,
or get walled off inside something or are accidentally melted when exposed to
excess heat. They can also be torn apart by the gravitational shear from the
force emitters, or from friction between parts,” he grimaced. “Or cooked by
repeated exposure to vacuum, cold, or radiation.”

“So...”

“So
the replicator slows down. It takes longer and longer to make each part. Which
was what happened on Anvil. They were down to making one piece at a time, not
doing entire trays of parts.”

“Oh.
That'd suck.”

“Yeah.”

“And
you're the only guy who can fix it. I bet they are pissed now. I... you know,
if they were behind that whole virus and sabotage, and I wouldn't put it  past
them, then I bet they are scared,” he grimaced and then tugged on one ear.
“Come to think of it, if anything does happen to you, we're screwed.”

“I
told them and told them,” Irons said with a shrug. “Not my fault they didn't
listen.”

“Another
metaphor just sprang to mind something about a herbivore and water. Lead? Led?”
the chimp said looking exasperated.

“Can't
lead a horse to water and make them drink?” Irons said smiling a wane smile.

The
chimp snapped his fingers. “That's the one. Yeah,” So what now?”

“Well,
I'm going to do what I can for the people down there, and do what I can to send
stuff back to Horatio to keep him busy.”

“Ah,
good idea.”

“After
that, well, I'll take it one system at a time I guess.”

“Oh.
I thought you'd say something like that,” the chimp sighed.

“Best
we can do. We have to work with what we have.”

“True,”
the chimp snorted. “At least until we make more,” he said shooting the Admiral
an amused look.

“Something
like that,” Irons said amused.

Charlie
Notuma was put out over the Admiral's request for storage space. Irons could
tell just from the sound of the man's approach.  He'd thought that Sprite's
request to handle it would have kept him out of such a simple transaction.
Apparently not so, Notuma had decided to track him down in main engineering and
confront him about the idea. “I don't see why you need all that space I mean, a
hundred cubic meters?” He waved a tablet as he came over to Irons.

The
Admiral turned. He'd seen the purser coming on his HUD. Of course he hadn't
needed it, Sprite had quietly warned him of Notuma with a text message on his
HUD after the purser had gotten her request and had immediately made his way
here. “You'd be surprised what equipment and raw material need in the way of
space. And I'll need space to assemble things.”

“Nothing
dangerous of course.” Charlie was ever the soul of discretion. Irons could tell
the man was fishing.

Irons
smiled slightly. “Hardly,” he said, easily deflecting the question.

“How
are you planning on paying for this? You do intend to pay for it right?”
Charlie asked, suddenly sounding triumphant. “And the fuel you've been burning
of course.” He sounded smugly sure of himself. Irons wasn't sure he liked that.

“You
mean you haven't been crediting his account for labor and materials?” Sprite
asked amused.

The
purser looked at the ceiling in stunned befuddlement. “Credit? Labor? What
labor?” Around them techs were trying to look busy while turning an ear to the
discussion. Irons hid a frown. This was going to be all over the ship's
grapevine soon. He didn't need any embellishments.

“Well,
lets see, a shift of work in the galley, then lets see, repairs to the ship for
the past several weeks, replacement of parts and materials in transit, then
over the past five weeks stocking the ship with materials and parts from his
runs with his shuttle.”

“Um,
I... ah...”

“Of
course his fuel expenses were covered by the fuel he recovered. One of the
points he had in making the journey in the first place,” she said rolling on.
“Shall we compare ledgers?”

“I
thought that was all for free!” Charlie said, staring at the Admiral as if he'd
been betrayed. Irons hid a smile as he sat back and sipped his coffee.

“Since
when? And don't forget my labors on your behalf. And Proteus for that matter.
I've got the spread sheet right here mister purser sir.” Sprite had a vengeful
air Irons found delightful. Maybe it was seeing the pale shock on the normally
greedy pursers face.

“Um...”
the purser's mouth opened and closed for a moment before he finally closed it
with a clomp. He scowled. “Fine, whatever, you can have your space,” he
muttered.

“And
power, and the materials he brings in. We'll settle up with the rest at a later
date. You don't have to be there Admiral if you don't want to be.” Sprite
sounded a bit dismissive. She knew how he hated sitting through dickering like
that. He usually left the details to her to iron out.

“We'll
see.”

“I
know you're busy, and accounting bores you to tears.”

“I
said we'll see,” he said smiling, but with a touch of steel in his tone. “I'll
need the space right away of course, and the power hook ups. I've already
cleared that with chief Bailey of course.”

“Whatever,”
Charlie said crossly, picking up his tablet and storming out of the room. Irons
snorted, shaking his head.

Sprite's
eyes were flashing. He wasn't sure if it was annoyance or not. “Accountants,
you've got to love them. They can't see past their ledger books. Give me, give
me, give me, but when it comes time to pay they squeal like a stuck...”

“Sprite,”
he sighed, hand over his eyes. The thought of her rant getting into the
station's grapevine...

“It's
just, damn that greedy turd shafts me something wicked Admiral.”

“Shafts
you?”

“What?
I'm trying on metaphors and colloquialisms for size.”

“That
one doesn't fit.”

“Okay.
Whatever,” she said still slightly cross. “Why do you need the space anyway?”

He
smiled. She'd been a little too busy in the net, puttering around and listening
in on the crew to pay attention to his plans. Of course if she bothered to take
his past actions in picking up the asteroids into account then the answer was
rather obvious. His smile had a little hint of malice in pulling one over on
her. “I'm going to replicate a replicator. That way he can't tell me the ones
the ship has are too busy. Then I'm going to pump out as many parts as I can
with it.”

“Oh.”
She paused for a moment. She realized now what he had been doing and why he was
a little malicious in his explaining the obvious. Touche' she thought. “But
he'll end up with the damn thing in the end.”

“Not
if I send it down to the planet before we leave,” Irons said with a smile.

“Oh,
I like it! He'll hate it, which is why I love it even more!  I'll settle his hash
later.”

“Better.”

“He's
still a jerk.”

“That
he is, that he is,” Irons sighed.

Over
the course of the next week he used the replicator to make parts he needed for
his shuttle, as well as parts for the ship and for the Agnostans' needs. He
built them several small hydrogen generators, solar panels, small computers,
radios, food replicators, emergency rations, blankets, water purifiers,
emergency shelters, textile extruders, and medical equipment.

He
taught them how to make wind or water electric generators out of vehicle
alternators. The captain gave them copies of the maps of the planet and system,
a library database, as well as communications arrays for them to tap the
satellite network.  When they heard about the long winter and lack of food the
purser grudgingly turned over additional crates of replicated survival rations.

“It's
like pulling a tooth out of a saber lion. While the lion is still alive and
kicking,” one delegate muttered.

“Don't
look a gift horse or in this case a miser in the mouth. All pursers are misers,
it's their job to be conservative with the ship's resources. Understandable
from his and the ship's viewpoint, but we're here to serve a purpose. And he's,
well...”

“Getting
in the way,” Irons said.

“Right,”
Sprite said sounding exasperated.

“Which
is why I've been running off ration packs for the past hour while I can. But
I'm out of organic material so I'm going to have to stop. But if you can send
some organic material up from the planet, I can make more.”

“Really?”
the delegate asked, surprised. He rubbed his tummy. He wasn't looking forward
to a lean winter. It was bad enough being light for him, but seeing his kid
starve...

“Sure
thing. Just get me material I can work with. I'll have Sprite give you a list.
Or better yet, I'll make a replicator that makes ration packs and let you do it
on your end.”

Jim
stared at him. The Admiral was incredible. George had been right on the credit
with his description. He felt a little small and petty next to him. To easily
do the things he did without any request for compensation? He for one wasn't
sure he could do it. Of course he had a family to feed... he shook the thought
off when he realized he'd been wool gathering too long. “Actually, that sounds
fine, just fine. If we can find power for it.”

“On
that end I've sent down some generators and other things. Let me know if you
can't get access to some and I'll make one just for you.”

“You're
all right Admiral,” the man patted his shoulder awkwardly. “No matter what they
say about you, you're a good guy.”

Oblivious
for the moment to the remark, Irons rolled on, in full brainstorming mode.
“Also, if you can think of it, anything general purpose you need for the farms
to keep them going. Maybe even expand them a bit to make up for lost time?”

“I,
um... I'll talk to Chumly and George and get back to you on that.”

“Okay
you do that.”

Irons
looked around, not sure why he was there. Oh he knew why he had been invited,
but not why he had accepted. The reception was in full swing, occupying the
large recreation room and adjoining compartments. He shook his head.

There
were about thirty five people in the room, all tastefully dressed. The staff
were hovering as unobtrusively as they could in the background. They were
dressed in the white formal uniforms of professional servers. Good. The captain
was on the ball with that.

The
room lighting was dimmed slightly, the better to give it some atmosphere.
Lilting orchestral pieces were playing softly in the background. The music was
just low enough to allow conversation but just loud enough to make it feel like
a party and to cover up conversations happening across the compartment.

He
had a question about the play choice. Oh he didn't mind, but something
patriotic would have been a better choice over classical pieces.  Okay, the
1812 Overture was patriotic, but a little fast for this crowd.

Red,
white and blue bunting was on one wall with a banner proclaiming the success of
the treaty. That was good. He was glad it had been signed. Having a blow out
party afterward to help cement the new relationship was proper.

He
hadn't been invited by the Pyraxians of course. They were sulking a bit,
smarting over his intervention. Well, that was too bad. The captain was here,
and no he hadn't invited the Admiral either. He was pretty sure captain
Ferguson was still trying to stay neutral in the conflict going on. He was a
good captain, but sometimes you didn't have a choice but to choose a side.

No,
his invitation had came from the Agnostans. He'd accepted it because it had
been a heartfelt one, and it helped smooth things over with them, ease them
into the treaty.

That
was his real reason for being there. What he did he did out of a sense of duty,
not for thanks. It was nice to be appreciated though. At least by some people.
He looked over to Mayfair.