Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (45 page)

“Ah.”

“By
the looks it's civilian grade, most likely from a megacorp. I can't get a read
on her though, it's a generic design so it could be from anyone. I would advise
caution on approach however, the Xenos were known to send copies rigged with
all sorts of nasty things inside.”

“Ah,
yes, that is a concern.” the captain frowned at the suddenly nervous crew.

“Captain,
we're getting some sort of weak signal. It's a digital signal but it's...” the
Gashg put his clawed hand to his sensory piece. “I believe it is an automated
distress signal.”

“Let's
have a look,” Ferguson said, nodding to the tech manning the sensors. She
touched a control and a holo of the ship appeared.

The
drone was an automated ship, about twice the size of a runabout. The bow was
peppered with sensors, the middle hump covered the power plant, the rear had
sublight drives and the hyper drive. Such drones were good for one or two jumps
and had a high failure rate.

The
ship was little more than that, a small crew, no more than a half dozen. Most
likely a dumb AI, no smart AI in it's right mind would be caught dead in
something like that. Irons had of course traveled in them from one assignment
to the next but had hated the cramped quarters. The only thing going for them
was the speed.

The
captain called a senior staff meeting and asked the Admiral to attend. Irons
did so reluctantly. They settled in quickly, all excited by the derelict
floating an AU away.

Charlie
the purser was intrigued and wants to bring the drone aboard but Irons and
Bailey cautioned against it.

“What
about sending out a repair party to service it and program it to go to Pyrax?”
Charlie asked. He seemed keenly interested in salvage. Irons wondered if there
was something in their contract or just the engineering challenge. Or hell,
just the adventure. That might be it.

Then
again... starships were a rarity these days. It could be that, he mused. They
knew that. Selling such a ship... it wouldn't haul much, it was mostly memory
banks. Huh. Did they realize that he wondered?

“Captain,
we can't. Ah, it's spewing some major radiation. We've got spikes all over the
board,” the sensory tech said, looking nervous about giving bad news.

“Even
now? Seven centuries later?” Charlie demanded. “I find that hard to believe!”
he said, hands on his hips.

“The
half life of some radioactive material is measured in eons Charles,” Bailey
said with a snort. He sighed mentally, already writing the project off as a bad
endeavor.

“Oh,
it's too bad. We could use something like this,” Ferguson said indicating the
flattened arrow head.

Irons
was surprised by that change in attitude. Did he mean a royal we or a more
localized we? The royal we was much more interesting in his book.

“We'll
make more. Some day,” Bailey said looking at the Admiral.

The
captain glanced at them through the link, caught the look and then nodded. “Ah,
I take it you can?” he asked, nodding to the Admiral.

“Yes,”
Irons admitted. “Ansibles as well but they are harder. I didn't bother in Pyrax
since they are expensive and hard to make in a start up economy. I was focusing
on infrastructure and defenses first.”

“Well,
we did have pirates on our minds.”

“That
too.”

“And
no one else to talk to.”

“Something
like that. That's changing though.” Bailey said. “Onward skipper?”

“Onward.
Make it so Mister Clarke.”

“So
this reserve posting...”

“Yes?”
Irons asked as they maneuvered the last satellite to the boat bay. He'd just
finished building it and Bailey and stopped in to lend him a hand moving it
since he was now off shift. He preferred moving it during graveyard, to keep
accidents with bystanders to a minimum and to minimize the exposure to the
crew... he didn't want a lot of people talking about this. Bailey, Chambers,
and the captain had reluctantly agreed.

Irons
had wanted to launch the satellite from a utility airlock but the captain had
nixed that idea after his last one had misfired and cooked some of the hull.
From now on all satellites were to be launched from a shuttle or from the boat
bay.

“Move
your end left, no your other left...” Bailey grunted, tugging on the yoke to
the push pull. It hovered nicely, fully charged and not having nearly as much
trouble as it's operators did manhandling it and it's cargo.

“We're
getting there chief,” Irons said maneuvering the bulky load. “And what about
the reserve posting?”

“Well,
I was, well, thinking about it again.”

“What
about it? More about the cybernetics? Or rejuv?”

“No,
those things are interesting, but I kind of like the extra pay and stuff.”

“You
have to earn it chief. You have to train a bit too you know.”

“Which
gets me to my question, how much training? I checked online. There was
something about a test? I hate the damn things.”

“Minimum
basic standard test. There is also a background check and others. Medical,
etcetera.”

“Who
says etcetera these days anyway?” Bailey joked.

“You
just did. So did I,” Irons grunted as they swung the giant satellite around a
corner. He winced as they came close to scraping a folded solar wing. “By
millimeters,” he muttered.

“Next
time leave em off till we get the damn thing in the lock.”

“Smart,”
Irons agreed. “You point that out now though...”

“Hindsight.”

“True.
But as I was saying, the background tests and checks are to make sure you're a
stable person and not a psycho. We need someone we can count on when the fur
flies.”

“In
my case literally?” Bailey snorted. “I get it.”

“I'll
upload you the application and requirements chief,” Sprite informed him. He
grunted.

“Right.
Also a check for a criminal history, patterns of behavior related to
relationships with terrorist or organized crime, things like that.”

“The
other testing?” Bailey asked.

“Oh,
a test of what you know. Since you're a reservist you can jump the basic course
and start with only a minimum of training if you pass it.”

“Ah?
Just my luck. Some test about tactics and stuff right?”

“No,
specialized to position and rank. We lowered the bar since education is
substandard right now. When general education picks up we'll raise the bar.”

“Okay.
So you're now saying I'm stupid enough to get in?” Bailey mock growled.

“Cute
chief. But if you want an officer's commission, and I assume you do, you've got
to pass the minimums. Even we have standards.”

“I
think my last date said something along those lines,” Bailey snorted.

“I
have no idea,” Irons said with a smile.

“So,
I mean stuff on it... all paper crap I suppose? Nothing about hands on?”

“I
wrote it chief,” Irons admitted.

“You?
God the engineering sections...”

Irons
shook his head as they waited for the final lock to iris open. “It's not that
bad. Basic engineering know how, leadership skills, teamwork, things of that
nature. I can leave a reference for you if you want,” he said as they pushed the
hovering satellite into the bay.

“What
good will that do?” Bailey asked.

“It'll
cut through some of the crap faster and get you to the head of the line.”

“Call
me a crap buster, okay. I'll think about it some more and get back to you.”

“Sure
thing chief, let's get this locked down and then go get a beer.”

“Now
your talking!”

“What's
going on in  here?” Irons asked, slowing at the hatch to the hold he had
rented. People were standing around holding beers and talking. Now that he had
the satellites off and running he wanted to get started on a few other
projects. Apparently some people had other ideas.

“Oh
hey man, Admiral, whatever,” a short male human tech said, saluting him with a
stein.

“Beer?”
Everette offered. He shook his head. Alcoholic or any intoxicating substance
was strictly regulated in space. Well, mostly. Unfortunately every spacer had a
habit of creating or maintaining an illicit still, it was something of a
tradition stretching back through time to the very roots of space travel in
most cultures. Hell it went even further back than that, to the time when ships
had plied the oceans.

Spacers
needed ways to unwind, to decompress without fear of reprisal. Therefore they
did so on their off time, usually only once or twice a standard week. The captain
had declared a dry ship when they had been delayed in making the jump.
Apparently he'd lifted that order a few days ago and it had taken this long to
get the party kicked off into full swing.

“What's
going on?” he asked looking around. There was a crowd around the open hatch and
people were yelling and cheering.

“Well,
the purser got a volleyball tournament going after the captain ordered it,”
Everette said. “Sure you don't want a brew? It's cold.” he held up a bottle.
Irons grimaced and set his load down. “What's all that?” the kid asked.

“My
next project. Which I see is now on hold,” he frowned, trying hard to not be
pissed. Crew morale was important, and he really needed to stay positive to
keep his image up. The timing however could have been better.

“Coming
inside?” April asked, leaning out the hatch. She caught sight of the Admiral
and her impish smile widened into a full grin. “Coming?” she waved imperiously.

“I
guess so,” he said coming in. He blinked as he entered. The hold wasn't that
large, but it was fully involved. Spectators lined the walls, sipping beer and
talking or cheering. Apparently someone had thought to hand out counter grav
hand  braces. Some of the spectators had taken to the walls, sitting on
anchored hover pallets. One of them in the corner had a set of chairs set up on
a large cargo pallet. The people on it were sitting there chatting away,
oblivious to the fact that they were two and a half meters above the deck.

A
veraxin with a tray of refreshments climbed onto a lower pallet, startling a
couple there. He didn't stop when they turned, just leapt from the pallet to
another closer to the corner one, and then onto the corner one.

The
center of the hold had an improvised net strung from one wall to the other. The
captain and bridge crew were on one side. Bailey and his engineers were on the
other. “Banzai!” the captain yelled, spiking the ball. Bailey got under it,
popped it up, and then Harry spiked it back.

Clarke
got under it, but hit the deck as he got it up. It went off wildly to hit a
wall and rebound. “Out,” Harry said, high fiveing his boss.

“Your
ball,” the captain agreed, catching it, bouncing it a few times and then
throwing it to them. He patted Clarke on the shoulder. “Keep your chin up son
it's early.”

“Yes
sir, Clarke said with a nod.

“You
like?” April asked, watching the game.

“Um...”
damn it this wasn't fair. He was torn. Mostly because of the rather fetching
yellow sundress she was wearing. She looked gorgeous he thought, and watched as
his reaction was caught by her. Gratification over his attention made her preen
slightly in response.

“Yeah,
we usually do this in the boat bay or rec deck but Mister Givens insisted we
have it here.”

“Ah,”
he nodded in sudden understanding, catching sight of the purser. The man was
looking entirely too smug.

“It's
not really big enough for a proper game though,” she said, raising her voice
over the cheering. He nodded.

“I
can think of one reason why he did it. I've rented the space for the trip
here,” he said. She looked at him in surprise.

“You
going to do anything?” she asked warily. He shook his head. “I don't think so.
I bet he knows it too, the jerk.”

“Now
I'm not, but I think we'll fill this space up just as soon as the party is over
so he doesn't get any more bright ideas,” he said, watching as the teams broke
to water down and cool off.

They
exited and she grinned as they made their way to the replicators. With most of
the crew enjoying the festivities there was only a skeleton watch on duty. He
used the time to replicate some materials for his projects and then moved them
to the corridor outside the hold. Of course all that activity drove them close
to each other, with the occasional frisky horseplay as a consequence. Frisky
and somewhat naughty play. When the party broke up the two of them sprang into
action, immediately getting into gear as they moved the gear in.

The
captain waved as he took the net down. “Sorry Admiral, forgot you had this
space.”

Irons
shrugged. No harm. April had been a big help... and they'd taken the time to
canoodle and play around in their own fun way in between trays. “No problem
captain, I'm glad the crew had a good time.”