Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (68 page)

“Can
I, I mean, when we get back to Pyrax, can I get antigen therapy? Seriously?”

“That
depends on you,” the Admiral said with a shrug. “You are a bit young for it. My
suggestion is to save your money. Invest some of it, and keep some for
retirement. Maybe put some away in a trust fund for antigen and metafactor
therapy later.”

“I
just don't want to get too old,” he said, he looked around. “I've also got a
couple of health issues.”

Irons
chuckled at that. “Son I am over ninety years old. I could live centuries.”

“Try
eons,” Sprite said in his ear.

“Or
longer,” the Admiral said with a shrug. “The civilian antigen therapy isn't as
good as military grade, but it's the best you're going to get for now.” He
waved to indicate he was moving on. The tech followed.

“I
didn't know there were different types,” the young man said grimacing. “I need
it though. The doctor said I have a rare medical condition. It will hit me like
a time bomb when I am in my forties. It, well, it killed my father and
grandfather.”

“Ah,”
the Admiral slowed nodding. “So that is why you took this job? The money not
the adventure? That's not normal for a...”

“Kid
my age?” the tech said with a snort. “You could say that. You could also say I
want to see fifty. Now that things have changed we have a lot to live for.”

“True,”
the Admiral said with a nod. “The clinic on Anvil is a fountain of youth
clinic. Or at least it was before the war. One of the better civilian antigen
and regen therapy clinics, but not the best. Those were on the core worlds,” he
grimaced. The familiar pain of loss wasn't there for once.

“But
you said the military is better?”

“Yes.
You get it in the military. Free. They will cure your disease right off, and
give you metafactors and even an implant and a college education. You sign up
for a twenty year hitch and you get it all and keep your money. Invest it in
something else like a retirement fund or business.”

Everette's
eyes went wide and thoughtful. “Wow. Sounds like a cool deal. Just one thing. I
don't like the idea of getting shot at. And the whole dead thing... that
sucks.” He shrugged helplessly.

“Yeah,”
the Admiral laughed. “I'll tell you a secret, the one ones who like getting
shot at are Marines. I think they get off on the endorphin rush. They aren't
exactly all there you know? Grunts and jar heads. Go figure,” he shrugged with
a smile.

“I'll
tell the major you said that.” Sprite said with a laugh. “See what he says
about it.”

“Hmm.
Well, I'll think about it. Thank you Admiral.”

“No
problem. Think about it. Talk to your family. Talk to a recruiter. You could
request a reservist post. Or a post in a low danger situation like in the yard
or here on Destiny since she's a reserve ship. It's up to you. Electronic techs
aren't usually on the front lines,” he smiled.

“True.
Thanks Admiral,” Everette said. He waved and walked off.

“Poaching
my crew?” Bailey growled from the doorway. Irons paused then snorted.

“Nope.
Just putting a bug in the kid's ear. He wants regen therapy but wants his cake
as well. That's one way of doing it.”

“True,”
Bailey snorted. “I've been wondering about that kid. He's good, I'll give him
that, but he's restless. The day in, day out drudgery isn't something he's used
to doing I guess. And we've got the system set up so well now, it's dead easy
to maintain. Let alone fix.”

“Yeah.
He may want a challenge or two.”

“Him,
I was talking about me!” the chimp laughed. “I'll see if I can put a bug of my
own in his ear. Maybe he'd be good in the yard?” He shook his head. “I bet he'd
have a ball setting up computer systems in every ship... at least until it
became a routine. Hell who knows. Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah,
tell me about it,” the Admiral said with a sigh.

“What
did you want to be when you joined up?” Bailey asked turning back to him. Brown
eyes locked onto the Admiral.

“Me?”
Irons snorted. “Believe it or not, a chief engineer. Which I was, briefly,” he
shrugged.

“After
my job huh? Figures,” Bailey chuckled. “I'd arm wrestle you for it, but I'm
under orders not to strain myself. Sylvia.” He rolled his eyes. The Admiral
chuckled.

“We're
seriously looking into the whole shuttle thing by the way,” Bailey said as he
got comfortable with Sylvia.

“Really?”
Sylivia asked amused.

“Figure
out what you want to build yet? A racer?” Irons asked amused. He toyed with the
stem of his cup.

Brown
eyes rolled expressively at the thought. That idea had made the rounds with the
pilots and helmsman this morning. The crew was going nuts over the idea of
building something like Irons seemed to be doing. “Perish the thought. Or the
pilot who tries to fly the damn thing. No, I was thinking simple. Start simple,
a basic craft, utilitarian then go from there.”

“A
workpod?” Irons asked.

Bailey
seemed to consider the idea, rubbing his chin for a moment before Sylvia batted
his hand away. “Yeah. I've been going over those launch plans you uploaded.
It's nice but damn complicated,” Bailey admitted, rubbing the back of his head
with one hand sheepishly.

“True,”
Irons nodded as Sylvia stroked Bailey's arm. He smiled down at her briefly.
“What about a tug?” Irons asked. He was going to give them the robot tug but it
worked better if it worked in unison with another craft.

“Um...”

“Think
about making a tug. Or a space dock.”

“Wait!”
Bailey laughed, shaking his head. “You're getting ahead of yourself there John!
A dock?”

“Sure?
Why not? You can build spacepods or tugs and sell them. Satellites too. Or even
inflatable habitats for stations. Station cores. Truss sections are easy, it's
a simple extruder and a bit of work with some hand tools. Get enough going with
the right reputation and you're golden. Even the people in Pyrax will buy them.”

“True,”
Bailey said nodding.

“Solar
power to answer your next question. Solar power is cheap, readily available and
isn't proscribed,” Irons said, beating the chimp to the question. “You can sell
panels to the planets you visit as well.”

“What
are we talking about?” Charlie Notuma asked, turning around. “Selling is my
business.”

“True,”
Sylvia said shooting the boys a look.

“He's
got us there,” Irons said with a shrug. She smiled again, eyes twinkling. He
cleared his throat. “We're talking about the Destiny hobby project that's been
brooded about. The crew want to make something in their off time. Either for
their own use or to sell.”

“Ah.”
Charlie rubbed his chin. “Sounds interesting.”

“Right.”

“We'd
have to charge for power and resources. Fab time.”

“Oh
give me a break,” Bailey said exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air and
shaking his head.

“What?”

“Charge
for that, we charge for labor and we're running in circles,” the chimp said
disgusted.

“He's
got a point,” Irons said. “You can work it out amongst yourselves later. “But
as for projects, a dock or station is a simple thing. Or at least it can be.
Airlock nodes, a core module, truss frame, solar panels, and inflatable
habitats. Just make sure you build it in a space you can get it out of.”

Bailey
turned brown eyes on the Admiral. He stared at him and then his face began to
broaden into a smile. Irons watched the wheels turn in the chimp's head. The
things Irons had described were all possible without hitting a lock out in a
replicator. Most were easy things that could be made in batches. “Sure, we can
do that. Simple.”

“Bingo.
Do a couple, and you can make custom modules, or add ons in time. You can also
do satellites, since you've got the design specs now.”

“We
do?” Charlie asked surprised.

“I
made a few for Agnosta remember?” Sprite asked.

“
Ahem
,
we...”

“We
made them, right,” Sprite said. “I stand corrected.”

“So,
you can build simple things and then expand on them,” Irons said as the purser
rubbed his jaw.

“Where
do we get the material?” he asked giving the Admiral a look.

“Take
your pick, you can trade it, or you can harvest it from asteroids in the
systems. Either way works.”

“I
kind of like harvesting rocks and then selling the finished materials back to
them,” the purser said with a small smile.

“You
would,” Bailey said snorting.

“It's
a thought. You can find a list of stuff and ideas on the net. Sprite?”

“Yes
Admiral? You want me to CC them a bookmark list? Already done.”

“Thanks,”
he said. Sylvia giggled a little. He smiled to her.

At
Triang, the ship settled into orbit before it delivered its last delegates and
refugees. The system, like many others was hit hard by the war, but the people
had managed to survive and bring their civilization up to mechanical farming.
Unlike many other agricultural colonies Triang had most of it's centralized
population underground in the old bomb shelters of the Xeno war. Only small
villages, two dozen or so people  in each, were scattered over the surface and
easily accessible to the pirates.

The
largest underground city on Triang also had an old mark four planetary defense
cannon mounted on a mountain nearby. The mark four drew power from the bunker's
elderly but still serviceable power network. With that and the fact that their
major populations were buried under mountains it was no surprise that the
pirates had mostly passed Triang by.

Triang
was the center of a growing trade route, and surviving inhabited systems were
nearby, so freighters like the Kiev and Io 11  made regular circuit passes.
Mister Notuma negotiated and paid the landing fees and they were given the
coordinates of a small rustic colonial village that served as the planet's
space port.

 Destiny's
crew gave them a download of the events in Pyrax and their travels and were
besieged by reporters wanting interviews for newspapers when they made planet
fall.

“That
interested in us?” Sprite asked, sounding amused and curious.

“It's
a small colony Sprite, be glad that they are interested in the outside universe
at all. And a free press element! That's something I didn't anticipate,” Irons
smiled at that development. It was both good and bad. Good in that it was there
and thriving, but bad if word ever got back about his little problem.

“Apparently
the shelters let them hang on to a semblance of their centralized government
and constitution. From the looks of things they have reinvented paper making
and news print.”

“Or
it was here all along. There might have been a regressive element here from
even before the war. A back to basics colony or tourist trap like Briev.”

“Um...”
Sprite accessed the encyclopedia files on the colony. “Accessing. Okay, the
entry is nonspecific. Agricultural world, lightly industrialized, population is
focused on green sustainable energy and resource use.”

“Paper?”
he asked amused.

“Trees
can be replanted Admiral.”

“True.”

“They
had a strict population control method prior to the war, more of an ethic than
a totalitarian law like communist China had in the twentieth and twenty first
century Earth time period.”

“Interesting.
Anything else?”

“No,
the standard links to agricultural worlds. Major export was grains, legumes,
mushrooms, and medicinal herbs. They had a growing brewery at one point.”

“Huh,”
Irons grunted disinterested.

“In
other words, not a candidate.”

“Oh
it is, but not as a core world. Seed yes, with the free press and light
industry, those factors alone will help it. It's proximity to Pyrax and it's
location on a trade route are also good for it. But no, no space based
industry, no air travel...”

“They
are interested in the outside galaxy but not interested in venturing out into
it.”

“Right.
Home bodies.”

Charlie
Notuma scowled as he watched the shuttle coming up. He'd had to pay a bundle
for fuel, more than he would have liked. The system lacked an asteroid belt,
and the heliopause materials had been so diffuse they'd a lot of it passed by.
What Irons had brought in hadn't helped much, it had just covered the cost of
fuel for the shuttles and power for his damn replicators. Which was sucking the
ship dry. He was using them constantly, he'd apparently built another pair and
was running through everything he'd brought on board.

Since
they hadn't refueled in Briev they had needed the fuel badly. They were going
to need a lot of it because they were going to have to bypass Briev again on
their way home.