Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (61 page)

“Oh
lovely. She's in red. The red queen. Now I see that whole block thing in the proper
light,” Sprite said as he noted the portly woman in scarlet and silver. Her
husband was in gold, with a rich purple cape trimmed in white and black fur.
Both had curled, powder white wigs on, with ornate crowns.

“Siberian
tiger. I bet you,” Sprite said. “It is on the animal import list when the
planet was terraformed. But I could be wrong. It could be some luckless Neo.”

Irons
grimaced as the king draped the cape over one arm then settled onto the throne
in synch with his wife gracefully. “Your majesties,” the portly servant said,
bowing before them. He nodded, every gram a leader.

“All
rise. Court is in session. I find we have guests to our realm,” the king said
nodding to the servant.

The
servant nodded. “Yyyess your majesty. They come from the system of Pyrax.”

“And
how far away is that?” the queen asked. Her jowls shook as with each word.

“Two
systems over as the crow flies. You'd think they'd know that. It's not like
they can have many people come through, there are only two jump nodes in this
dinky system after all,” Sprite said dryly. “Oh interesting, they have a
computer network up! I'll just investigate that.” He felt her consciousness
withdraw a little.

“You
do that,” Irons said under his breath, not catching the servant's answer. The
servant waved impatiently for Mayfair and Willis to come forward. The two women
did and curtsied. He bet Willis was now regretting her choice in simple
fabrics. Apparently the lords and ladies of the court kept the good vibrant
colors to themselves and made their peons wear the drab browns and blacks.

“Your
majesties, we are a delegation from Pyrax, sent here to open trade negotiations
and to reestablish the old Federation,” Mayfair said smiling a little. Irons
was glad she wasn't stumbling over her lines. At least this introduction was
going smoother than the Agnostan encounter.

“Indeed,”
the king said, right hand supporting his head. The neatly trimmed somewhat gray
beard didn't quite hide his double chin. “I had no knowledge of this before.
Why is that?”

“It
is a new thing your majesty. We have begun rebuilding the Pyrax system and wish
to strengthen it against the pirates that prey upon the area. Our brave
soldiers recently captured and destroyed a fleet of pirate ships and we wish to
make sure others do not come to strike at our neighbors.”

Their
majesties exchanged glances then nodded. “We have heard of such things. Indeed
it has been something of a concern for us. However so far they have not dared
show themselves here.”

“Yes
your majesty,” the servant said bobbing a nod.

“Admiral
this is strange. They have technology but the upper crust seems to be hoarding
it. Using it only to keep their grasp on power,” Sprite reported.

“Typical
actually,” Irons replied softly, watching the byplay below. Mayfair was handing
over a few of the gifts. He felt a bit of amusement. She of course didn't
mention that
he
had been the one to make them.

“They
have modern weapons Admiral. It seems they are from an armory. Although there
are hunting weapons the nobles have taken custody of as well. Somehow they got
around the ID check for plasma guns.”

“Did
you say...” He turned face away from the goings on below. “Plasma?” Plasma
weapons changed things.

“I
did indeed. Look below again.” He did as directed. Silently she highlighted the
royal guards behind the monarchs, then a box appeared around a weapon and it
was magnified. Each was decked out in glittery and a few sported jewelry and
hanging ribbons and cloth, but the shapes were indeed plasma weapons.

“But
if they have that... they have to have the infrastructure to support it. A
power supply for one thing. I didn't see a single solar farm or wind turbine.
How the hell can they use plasma weapons and get around the implant lock outs?”

“There
were a few off the coast. Most were not functional. They may have a tidal
generator, or geothermal. I suppose they have a dedicated power line to the
castle. If you note the lights, they are actually electrical, not the typical
lamp oil. Their flicker is a cheap trick.”

“Ah,”
the Admiral nodded. He felt a breeze and turned. A fan, built into the wall had
come on. It was covered by a tapestry. It made the heavy drapery move a little.
His thermal imaging picked out the air temperature difference.

“Fascinating,”
Sprite said. “They aren't as backward as they first looked.” Sprite was amused
by that it seemed.

“Just
goes to show, don't judge a book by it's cover,” the Admiral growled.

“Enough,”
the king rumbled. He looked down to see the king was waving the servants away.
“We shall see to these gifts at a more appropriate time. And we shall grant you
a private audience later. Now to other matters.”

“How
the hell did they get plasma weapons?” Irons asked when he was alone. His
quarters were a sty, and unfortunately he didn't have a bot to clean them. He
was just glad he had nanites to fend off the bacteria and bugs that infested
the room. He wasn't looking forward to lying down on that straw mattress. Not
only was it infested but it looked down right uncomfortable... and from the
look of some suspicious stains on it, not clean in other ways either. Great.

There
was a blood stain on the floor someone hadn't quite gotten out of the wood. The
corner near the small window smelled of vomit. He was planning on not spending
a whole lot of time in here if he could help it. In fact he was seriously
considering bunking in the shuttle.

The
only thing that kept him here was the thought of Willis and Mayfair and their
ilk having to put up with the same living conditions. The captain and Willis
had lectured Mayfair in diplomacy and tact, and accepting the living conditions
in order to promote her cause. He was fairly sure that was the only reason she
was still here.

The
roof was again soot stained. He had a small fireplace with a rotting stag's
skull and antlers above the mantle. The mantle was covered in candle wax. It
dripped all over the mantle and floor under it.

There
was a single drapery on the wall above the bed. It had an image of a hunter
with a bow on horse back chasing down a stag.

The
bed was a box affair, not very sturdy and dark. It was a four poster, with the
posts carved with flowers and vines. The top of the bed was draped in blue
linen curtains.

There
was a fur bed spread, one on top of the other. The top one was a white and
black badger. There was a matching one on the floor in front of the bed.

“Obviously
you haven't hunted on this planet,” Sprite said dryly.

“You're
kidding. A plasma weapon would tear anything apart! Talk about overkill!”

“Some
of the native dragons might disagree. They have pretty thick hides. They've got
some sort of carbon dermatological growth over their vitals that deflects most
kinetic rounds.”

“Ah,”
he said. “So they are relics of past hunters? Passed down through the ages?”

“Most
likely. None are military grade if that is what you are asking. Possibly from a
militia or traded from a passing ship. None have implant limiters.”

“Oh
lovely.” Plasma weapons were not only a danger to himself but also to any
shuttle that attempted to take off or land here. That complicated things a
little.

“I
noticed something else you might have overlooked.”

“Oh?
Do tell. I didn't get a brief you know.”

“That's
because I wasn't sure if you were going down to the planet until we were on the
shuttle Admiral.”

“True.
You were saying?” he said, dismissing that complaint. She was right, it had
been a spur of the moment choice.

“Did
you notice that the entire population is made up of human stock?”

“It
is a Terran colony. Russian or eastern European I believe,” he answered dryly.
“Both cultures tended to be Orthodox.”

“True,
but this area had a lot of refugees during the war years so that's not entirely
true anymore. Also, the Terrans are stock human. No Neos, and few if any
genies.”

“Really,”
he said looking up, not liking the thought of that. He'd noted the lack of aliens
but... really?

“Yes.
And if you had looked closely enough...” She brought up an image of the throne
room. The view shifted and then a karat box formed around a head on the wall
and zoomed in. Irons winced as he recognized the rack of antlers and skull
structure. It was the head of a Naga. Sprite zoomed out so he could see the
heads of others there. Some he recognized. Others were so old and rotten only
an experienced field xenologist would be able to figure them out. He winced.

“How
long?” he asked quietly.

“Apparently
your people here regressed to isolationism, forcing beings outside your species
to the fringes and then hunting them.”

“They
aren't my people,” he growled darkly. “How long?” he asked again.

“Unknown.
But based on this I would say it's been going on for centuries. My guess is
there aren't any more non-terrans or Neo's left.”

“I
guess Asia is going to pass on this world,” he said dryly.

“Highly
likely.”

He
thought for a moment, and then went to the window. He put his hand on the sill
and then grimaced, wiping it. The sill had some sort of fungus on it. He stared
out into the dark night. “They are right up Horath's alley,” he said softly.

“Which
might explain why they were bypassed by the pirates several times. What I am
wondering is if the pirates are in... I believe you use the term cahoots, with
them?”

“Fitting.”

“I
try. They could be using this system as a forward base of operations.”

“We
don't have any data on that. It's speculation,” Irons said after a moment. Not
that he was going to totally dismiss the idea.

“True,
but it does fit past behavior patterns of the pirates.”

“We
need to look into this,” he said. He looked around. “and I'm going to need to
get back to the port to recharge in a couple of days.”

“Definitely.
I would highly recommend it Admiral.”

“Right,”
he said. He turned to the bed and wrinkled his nose. His sensors could detect
the bugs in it. His nanites would make short work of any that came after him,
but he wasn't happy about sharing a bed with them. He had sprayed the top
layers but apparently the straw mattress was infested with them, through and
through. Great. He'd probably hear them scuttling around in the bag as he tried
to sleep.

If
he had his druthers he'd get up and go sight seeing. But the local constables
had been clear about a mandatory curfew for the tourists. He wasn't sure why at
first, then it hit him. Muggers. They probably didn't want thieves and cut
throats killing any unsuspecting tourists. That would ruin the planet's so
called clean image.

He'd
seen enough to know he really didn't like this planet. He'd have to check for
more but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to toss them much. Anything he did
give them the royals would keep for themselves anyway. He didn't want to give
them anything more to help keep them in power. That was a dilemma for another
day though.

“Night
Sprite.”

“What
the..?” Sprite said. She looked at the file and then whistled softly. “Admiral
got a moment?” She turned her attention outward. He was usually a grump in the
morning if he didn't have his coffee. They didn't have it on this world
apparently so she'd done her best to stay out of his way until he wanted
something.

Apparently
most of the people in the castle worked on a different time schedule than the
Admiral and others. Irons had tuned out the raucous partying nearby and in the
courtyard below for hours after he went to bed. He'd woken at sun up and gone
down to the kitchens but had found the cooks asleep at their posts and no food
or drinks. He'd come back to his room in a somewhat foul mood.

He
was examining himself in a mirror. The mirror was little more than a silver
coated, meter sized circle. “You are still as...” He glared. She coughed. “Um
never mind?” she said weakly.

“Better,”
he said. He used a towel to wipe his face off. “What?” he asked after a moment.

“Well
I was going through their historical database. Get this, the latest generation
thinks they are descendants of Camelot.”

“You're
kidding.” He slowed his grooming.

“I
kid you not Admiral. Direct descendants of King Author Pendragon and the
knights of the round table. At least that is how the current king presents
himself to his lords. Made them swallow it too.”

“He
wouldn't be the first lord or government to rewrite his own history to benefit
his own ends.”

“Or
the last,” Sprite agreed.